


Throne of Lies

by rbreea



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Book 1: Throne of Glass, F/M, Samlaena - Freeform, Spoilers for Book 1: Throne of Glass, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:49:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 32,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25543900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rbreea/pseuds/rbreea
Summary: What would have happened if Sam Cortland hadn’t been killed in The Assassin’s Blade by Rourke Farran, but Celaena still went to Endovier, with the belief that Sam died because of her.
Relationships: Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien & Dorian Havilliard, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien/Nehemia Ytger, Dorian Havilliard/Chaol Westfall, Sam Cortland/Aelin Ashryver Galathynius | Celaena Sardothien
Comments: 9
Kudos: 63





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! This is kinda something I had wanted to happen when I was first reading the books. First off, we all hated Sam’s death right? If you didn’t I don’t recommend this story.... Cause I did. I also hate hate hate Chaol. Why? Who knows. But I do so he doesn’t get with Celaena in this story. ALSO: THIS STORY USES A LOT OF DIALOGUE AND WRITING THAT IS IN THE ACTUAL BOOKS! A LOT OF THE WRITING IN THESE FIRST FEW CHAPTERS IS NOT MINE, ITS SJM’S!! This chapter starts with one of the last scenes in Assassin’s Blade. That’s pretty much it. Enjoy :)

Standing atop one of the many emerald roofs of Rifthold, Rourke Farran and Arobynn Hamel watched as the prison wagon was escorted out of the city. A chill breeze swept off the Avery, ruffling their hair. 

“Endovier, then,” Farran mused, his dark eyes still upon the wagon. “A surprising twist of events. I thought you had planned a grand rescue from the butchering block.”

The King of Assassins said nothing.

“So you aren’t going after the wagon?” 

“Obviously not,” Arobynn said, glancing at the new Crime Lord of Rifthold.

“You and your men could free her in a matter of moments,” Rourke went on. “Attacking a prison wagon is far safer then what you had originally planned. Though I’ll admit- sending her to Endovier is far more interesting to me.” 

“If I wanted your opinion, Farran, I would have asked for it.” 

Farran chuckled, and silence fell for a moment before he turned his head and said, “If you wanted her to suffer, you should have left her in my care, I could have had her begging for you in a matter of minutes. It would have been exquisite.” 

Arobynn just shook his head. “Whatever gutter you grew up in must have been an unparalleled sort of hell.”

Farran studied his new ally, his gaze glittering, “Why did you do it?” he asked.

Arobynn’s attention drifted back to the already far away wagon, slowly rolling away in the foothills above Rifthold. “Because I don’t like sharing my belongings.”

—

Celaena had been in the wagon for two days now. She only moved from the corner to relieve herself or to pick at the food the threw in for her. She had nothing to do but think about how she had failed. How she had failed Sam. How could she have been stupid enough to believe she could love him without paying the price? Now he was dead, she reminded herself. He died because of you. He died. Sam is dead.

She lifted her head from the wall, watching the shadows play on the walls of the wagon as they rolled along the path. The trek to the Salt Mines was two weeks. Two weeks and then Endovier. A tremor went through her body, and she tucked her legs in tighter to herself. 

—

Arobynn Hamel watched as Rourke Farran walked out of the Keep. The two had stood, watching the wagon disappear into the distance, until it was no longer visible above the hills. The King of Assassin’s felt a sudden tremor course through his body. His Celaena, on her way to the Salt Mine of Endovier. Whatever happened, he thought to himself as he walked down into the basement dungeons of the Keep, he wouldn’t dwell over this any longer. 

He approached the final door at the end of the long hallway. He stood in front of it for a moment, before he smirked, pulled the door open, and stepped inside. 

“Master- I was just getting started.” Tern, one of the assassins training at the Keep, stood, bowing his head. 

“Not to worry Tern. I’ll handle it from here.” 

Tern hurried out the door, shutting it, while Arobynn turned to the man kneeling on the floor in chains. Several pairs of chains. 

“Well Sam. Seems everything went according to plan.” Sam looked up from his spot in the floor and glared into his masters eyes, refusing to speak.

Arobynn just chuckled. “Don’t give me that look. I did it for her. I did it for you too. See, while you were brought here by Tern and Mullin, Celaena sat in that apartment thinking you were going for Farran. The next morning, I made sure I was the one who told her you had been killed. She likely wouldn’t have believed anyone else. I don’t doubt for a moment that she was holding on to some small sliver of hope that you were actually alive. So, I brought her here, to the room right next door to you actually!” Arobynn was fully smiling now, beginning to laugh while he explained the full extent of his plan to the assassin.  
“I showed her one of Farran’s recent projects. His face was burned off completely, his fingers and toes bent and broken, his body torn and cut and bruised and burned. He was unrecognizable.” Arobynn leaned in to look Sam directly in the eyes as he said, “Celaena didn’t question it. She believed it was you, she believed she had failed you. And do you know where she is headed right now, Sam?” 

Sam stared Arobynn down, pure anger and hatred shown in his eyes. 

“No guesses? I suppose I can tell you then,” Arobynn leaned even closer, fully aware that Sam was currently attempting to free his hands from their shackles. 

“Endovier,” he whispered so quietly, Sam prayed he had misheard. “The Salt Mines of Endovier.”

Sam went utterly still. 

No one survived Endovier. Most prisoners didn’t survive a month. It was a death camp. Celaena was going to Endovier- she was going to be a slave in the Salt Mines of Endovier. Fear struck Sam deep down, ravenous and cold, and nearly dragged him under. 

Arobynn saw through Sam’s emotionless expression. He smirked at the fear and hatred he saw there. He smirked, and stood up. 

Sam’s gaze stayed on the floor. 

Arobynn sighed and rolled his shoulders back. And as he began to land blow after blow on his assassin, he felt no regret, no remorse, nothing except a slight pleasure. 

“No,” he thought as Sam slipped into unconsciousness several minutes later, “I won’t regret this in the slightest.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nine months after Celaena had been shipped of to Endovier, Arobynn still kept Sam locked up in the Keep. And while he let Sam out of his chains most of the time, he never let him leave the dungeons. Sam was a prisoner, Celaena was a slave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: violence  
> Skip the 8 Months After section if you do not want to read it

#### 1 Month After

#### 

Sam woke up, feeling pain all throughout his body. For a quick moment, he couldn’t remember where he was or what was going on. But then he remembered. He would always remember what his master had done. He wouldn’t let himself forget it, no matter how much he wanted to.

She’s still alive, he told himself. He could feel it, deep down, that she was fighting to survive. 

The door was yanked open by Mullin, and Sam quickly got to his feet. Mullin carried a tray covered in food, and a large cup filled with water. Sam looked past the fellow assassin to glance out the door, but he saw three shadows standing in the hallway. 

This was how it had been for the last month. Arobynn sent four or five assassins down to give Sam plenty food and water, and to make sure he didn’t escape. And while he wasn’t starving Sam, he was beating him. Quite often.

Mullin and the three other assassins stood watching him as he ate his food. Only seconds after he had finished his food and water, they took the tray and cup away from him. 

Sam waited until Mullin turned his back, then he pounced. He knocked Mullin out with a simple blow to the back of his head, before he turned to face the other three. He landed several blows on each of them, before they began to overpower him. When Sam was kicked down to the ground, they put him back in chains, dragged Mullin’s unconscious body into the hallway, and slammed the door shut. 

Sam began screaming at Arobynn, to let him out, to save Celaena, to do something, anything, to help her. He kept screaming for hours before he slipped into a deep sleep, filled with nightmares of Celaena being whipped, tortured, and even killed. 

#### 3 Months After 

#### 

Celaena shivered violently, and awoke with a start. The darkness surrounding her was endless and terrifying. She had been in the pit for a long time, but she didn’t know exactly how long, since it was impossible to tell time in the endless darkness.

She felt pain and hunger course through her body, as another shiver ran through her. She pulled her knees as tightly into herself as she could. For the first time in a long time she felt afraid. 

“My name-“ she shivered again, even harder this time. “My name is- Cel- Celaena Sardothian. I will not- I will not be afraid.” she whispered as a tear rolled down her cheek. She opened her eyes and stared into the darkness, willing her eyes to adjust even a small bit. But the darkness just stared back at her; just like it always had. 

She wanted to scream to be let out, but she knew it wouldn’t do anything besides give the guards a good laugh. She squeezed her eyes shut again, trembling with pain, fear, and hunger.

When she opened her eyes hours later, she could feel a presence standing tall over her. She had just enough time to register the light seeping in, before the guard landed his first blow, and she slipped back into unconsciousness.

#### 8 Months After

#### 

Celaena stood on the barren edge of a ravine, a chill northern wind ruffling her hair. She’d had this dream before; always this setting, always this night of the year.

Behind her sloped a rocky, wasted plain, and before her stretched a chasm so long it disappeared into the starlit horizon. Across the ravine was a dark wood, rustling with life.  
And on the grassy lip of the other side stood the white stag, watching her with ancient eyes. His massive antlers glowed in the moonlight, just as she remembered. They watched each other in silence.

She took a half step closer to the edge, but paused as loose pebbles trickled free, tumbling into the ravine. There was no end to the darkness in that ravine. No end, and no beginning, either. It stared back at her- and the face it wore was her own.

Beneath the dark, she could have sworn she heard the rushing of a half-frozen river, seen a flash of white, heard the thud of hooves on soft earth. 

Celaena looked up from the ravine. The stag had come closer, his head now angled, as if inviting her to join him.  
But the ravine only seemed to grow wider.

So Celaena did not cross, and the stag turned away, his steps near silent as he disappeared between the tangled trees of the ageless wood.

—

Celaena opened her tear filled eyes. She raised and dirty hand to wipe them away before they could fall. She laid on the stone and stared up at the ceiling. 

As she picked up her pickax, she felt a calm, cold feeling fill her body, until there was nothing left inside her but cold, heartless, hopeless rage. 

The Eyllwe woman who was chained to her left, turned to stare into Celaena’s emotionless face. What she saw there must have shown the unending rage she felt, because the woman backed away as far as she could, pulling the chain between their ankles tighter. Celaena stared down at the chain, then slowly lifted her head to seek out their overseer. When she made eye contact with the man, she lifted her pickax, and snapped the chain between them. 

The overseer yelled, running forward with his whip. Celaena was waiting, though, and she used all the strength she could muster to swing the pickax into his stomach.

Celaena panted through her bared teeth as she yanked the pickax out of the overseer. The man gurgled blood, clutching at his gut as he looked to the slaves for help. 

But one glance from Celaena, one flash of eyes that showed she had gone beyond the edge, kept the slaves at bay.

She merely smiled down at the overseer as she swung the ax into his face. His blood sprayed her legs.

The slaves still stayed far away when she brought down the ax upon the shackles that bound her ankle to the rest of them. 

She didn’t offer to free them, and they didn’t ask; they knew how useless it would be.

With both legs freed from their chains, Celaena took off into a wobbly run, making for the exit. Two guards ran for her, but she didn’t hesitate; bringing her pickax into the first guards shoulder, stealing his sword, and skewering the second guard, all in a matter of moments. She yanked her pickax out of the first guards shoulder, dropping his sword, and left him to bleed out. 

She ran as fast as she could on her weakened legs, tearing through any guards or overseers that tried to block her path. Minutes later she reached the top, dropped her pickax, and took off in a zig-zagging sprint through the grass. She could hear the arrows zipping past her, but she didn’t care. Suicide wasn’t her goal here. 

She ran and ran, oblivious to all the commotion she was causing around her, until she finally reached the wall. She reached out a hand to touch it, not even three feet from the wall, when she was suddenly and harshly pushed to the ground. She felt weight on top of her as guards began to restrain her. 

As they hauled her to her feet and tied her between the two wooden posts, she started chuckling; a low, rasping sound. And as the guard started whipping her in long, brutal strokes, she laughed. For the first time since she arrived, she felt nothing; no pain, no hunger, no thirst, no fear, no hope, and no anger. Just cold, empty nothingness. She continued laughing for a long time after they threw her into the blackness of the pit. 

She sat in the pit for days afterwards. It might have even been weeks. She lost track. She didn’t care. Everyone she loved was dead. She was alone in this world. And all she wished for as she sat in that infernal darkness, was death. 

#### 9 Months After 

#### 

Sam woke up to a blurry form leaning over him. He let his eyes adjust to the unusual brightness in his cell, when he realized he wasn’t in his cell. He sat up in his bed with a start, looking around at Arobynn and the five assassins standing at the back of his room.

“Sam. How nice of you to join us,” Arobynn smirked. “I’ve decided that you’ve spent enough time in that cell. I would like for you to rejoin us here in the Keep.”

Sam stared at his master. Surely he knew Sam would try to leave as soon as they left him alone. After all this time, he still believed Celaena was alive. He knew she was fighting, and he swore to himself that he would continue fighting for her.

“Well, if you’re not going to say anything, we’ll leave you to yourself.” Arobynn motioned to the other assassins, and they filed out the door. Arobynn turned back to glance at Sam one last time, before he swung the door shut. Sam heard it lock, and heavy footsteps walk away. He knew though, that the five assassins were still waiting right outside his door. 

Sam cautiously climbed out of his bed and looked around the room. He noticed that both windows were locked and sealed shut. He also noticed the reinforced glass. That was probably a new addition to his room to keep him from attempting to break the windows. 

As he continued looking around, he also noticed that mostly everything that could be used as a weapon had been removed. The headboard of the bed had been removed, along with the sword he had hidden as part of the bed frame. His various knives and daggers hidden in all places around the room had been found and removed, loose floorboards had been screwed down, and all loose nails, picture frames, desks, chairs, and lamps had been taken out. 

Though it was better than a cell, Sam was still trapped. A prisoner. 

He sat down on his bed and decided he needed to get a proper nights rest before finding a way out of here. Before finding a way to get to Celaena.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is still a prisoner in the Assassins Keep, but he discovers he has an ally

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know some of the timing was wrong in the last chapter, mostly the ‘8 months after.’ (I’m kind of sure now that it was only 4 months...) Just go with it, it’ll be fine. 
> 
> This chapter is the first few chapters of Throne of Glass, but from Sam’s point of view.

After about a month of being a prisoner in his bedroom rather than a cell, Sam was nowhere close to getting his reinforced window to open. He was very surprised at how difficult it was to break the locks. It wasn’t even beginning to wear down though, and he was starting to think he would never be able to escape his captivity in the Keep. 

At the sound of footsteps, he quickly and silently drew the drapes down and sat in on his bed. He could hear the sound of keys jangling around in the three separate locks that had been added to his door.

As the door opened, Sam sat completely still; watching Tern walk in with his breakfast. 

“Eat up. You have a busy day ahead of you,” Tern smirked, an evil glint in his eyes as he watched Sam stand up to take the plate. He knew by now that it would be useless to try to fight his way out. There were five more assassins standing outside his door, ready to attack him if he should do something stupid. 

When he finished eating, Tern and Harding hauled him to his feet, clamped him into chains, and half dragged him down to the training room.

Arobynn believed that even though Sam was technically a prisoner at the Keep, he should still keep in shape and train on a regular basis. So that’s what he had been doing for the past month. If it wasn’t for the locks and shackles and escorts, it might have seemed like everything was completely normal, and they were just going about their regular day to day activities. 

But every time Sam stepped into the training rooms, he reminded himself who he was fighting for; what he needed to do to get to her. He wouldn’t give up hope, no matter what Arobynn or the other assassins told him. 

Harding unshackled his arms, and gestured to the weapons rack. Tern held his arm while dragging him to choose his weapon. Sam picked up a long rapier, and Harding grabbed one of his swords, before they both stepped into the ring. 

With a feral sort of growl, Sam lunged straight for Harding, waisting no time whatsoever.

Harding was waiting, and with a twist if his arm, he brought his sword up to block Sam’s blow, and the two began to dance. 

Harding forced Sam to take the defensive stance, swinging high. But he blocked and grunted at the force, before withdrawing and feinting; jabbing at his side while he was caught off-guard. Sam surged forward, twisting and turning as Harding went to deflect him. The assassin began falling behind, barely keeping up with his opponent. He tried to catch Sam with a blow to the face, but Sam snapped his elbow up, deflecting his blow and slamming into his fist, forcing it down. He lunged with no hesitation, swiping for the legs, and knocking Harding down; pointing his sword at his chest as he lay on the ground. 

Sam looked up to look around the room. There were still assassins guarding the doors, so he turned slowly to face the others in training. 

“Who’s next?” His voice was barely above a whisper. But an assassin stepped forward, picking up a pair of hunting knives, a wicked smile on his face. They began to spar.

—

#### two months later

#### 

Sam bathed while three assassins watched, making sure he didn’t attempt to escape. While at first this was a strange and uncomfortable adjustment, Arobynn had made him get used to it. For the past three months, this had been his exact same routine. Escorted everywhere inside the keep in chains, and constantly being checked upon and watched by fellow assassins and sometimes even Arobynn himself.

He hadn’t heard any news of Celaena, or of anything really, because Arobynn made sure he didn’t. For all he knew, Celaena hadn’t even made it to Endovier. For all he knew, she had escaped and ran. And though it was unlikely, he prayed that that had been the case. 

He sighed and climbed out of the bath, dried himself, and was escorted back to his room in chains once again. 

After waiting for the footsteps to fall away, he walked over to his window. After three months of working on the locks and reinforcements on the window, he was finally close to breaking out and being free from his prison. And with his debt to Arobynn payed, curtesy of Celaena, he would be allowed to leave for good. Arobynn wouldn’t be able to hold him here anymore. His master was truly no longer his master. 

He worked all night on the lock, just like had before in the past months, until he finally felt himself drifting into sleep. He moved towards his bed, and shut his eyes before his head even made it to the pillow. 

What felt like seconds later, Sam heard a soft thud. Without opening his eyes or moving an inch, he listened. After several moments, he heard more thudding, and the harsh but soft sound of metal on metal. 

He cracked an eye open, and saw a shadowy figure sitting where he had sat only hours before, working at the locks on his window. As quietly as he could, timing his movements to the sounds the metal was making, he stood and walked to stand behind the figure. 

In a flash, he grabbed the man by his collar, dragged him backwards and flipped him to the floor, pinning him to the ground. The man began to fight back, but Sam pressed even more of his weight onto him, and he sank back to the floor in resignation. 

“What are you doing in here Wesley?” Sam whispered down at Arobynn’s bodyguard, cocking his head to the side. 

Wesley sighed and motioned to the bed as best he could. Sam had always liked the man, and knew him to be trustful, so he climbed off of him and sat down on the bed. 

Wesley sat next to him and said, “Okay I will tell you what you want to hear, on one condition,” he stared at Sam for a moment before continuing. “You can’t let Arobynn know that you know. You have to control your temper, and act like everything is completely normal. Do you understand?” 

Sam nodded, anxious to finally know what Arobynn had been planning. So Wesley began to tell the whole story.

“Arobynn hadn’t liked that Celaena was leaving him for you. He arranged for your fake death, and for Celaena’s capture and imprisonment in Endovier.” 

Sam bristled at this, but stayed quiet, not wanting to risk Wesley leaving and not telling him the rest.

“I suspect the only reason Arobynn faked your death instead of letting Farran kill you, was to be able to use you as a bargaining chip with Celaena if she ever got out. I have a feeling if news ever arrives saying Celaena Sardothian died in Endovier, he will kill you Sam. But so far there have only been two rumors of her in the past year. The first one, that she snapped, killed an overseer and 23 sentries, and was a finger’s tip from the wall before the guards caught and restrained her. That was about four months ago. The second being, the Crown Prince has chosen her to be his competitor in a competition being hosted by the King. Essentially, the King wants a lackey to do his dirty work, but he wants to hold a competition to find the most worthy Champion. About four days ago, the Prince supposedly set off for Endovier, to see if she’s still alive, and to see if she’s in good enough a condition to fight for him in the tournament. That’s all I know, and I haven’t heard anything since.” Wesley stared at Sam in silence.

“What were you doing to my window?” Sam asked quietly, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it anyways.

“Arobynn asked me to, every now and then, slip you a tasteless sedative to knock you out, then replace the locks on your windows. He figured you would try to break them to get out of the keep, and he was right obviously, so every other couple weeks I replace them and reinforce the windows.”

Sam was breathing heavily, no longer able to control his anger towards his master. Former master. He kept forgetting.

“Help me get out then.” 

Wesley shook his head, “No. I can’t. But I can promise you that I won’t touch your windows again. The rest is up to you.”

With those strange words, Wesley gathered his things and left Sam alone. He walked over to where a cup sat, abandoned on the floor. He picked it up, still full of liquid, and sniffed it. He knew right away that the sedative Wesley had told him about was in this drink, and Sam hadn’t drank from it. He knew that Wesley was aware of that fact as well, because it had been sitting right next to where he had knelt on the floor. 

Wesley was helping him escape the Keep. He was helping him get to Celaena.

—

About a month later, Sam had finally worked off the locks on his window, and had spent the past couple nights around the lower town, asking for news about Adarlan’s Assassin. Most of the people had confirmed that the Crown Prince was on his way back with Celaena. Sam wasn’t completely sure if he believed the rumors, but he knew it would be stupid to try and go to the mines, if there was even a chance that what he was hearing was true. 

So he waited.

He spent his days in the Keep, pretending he was a prisoner. Then some nights he would sneak out to inquire about Celaena again. 

After about a week of this routine, he woke one afternoon, to the sounds of trumpets and cheering. He rushed to the window to try to see what was causing the commotion. From his window, he couldn’t see anything, but he knew deep down that it was Celaena. He quickly changed into a simple shirt and a pair of black pants, and snuck out the window. 

He knew today was an off day for most of the assassins, so no one would be up to check on him for at least two to three hours. 

He climbed to the ground and took off in a sprint to get to the main street that lead to the castle. As he ran, the crowd got thicker and thicker, and soon he found himself unable to push forward anymore. 

Up ahead, he saw red capes, indicating they were knights of Adarlan. He searched frantically, pushing people down who were blocking his view, until finally he saw her. 

She was smiling and waving at the crowd, and it looked like she was talking to the man on the horse next to her. As she turned her face to look somewhere beyond the crowd, he saw the pain in her face. He saw her pale skin, her sunken eyes, and his heart broke at the sight. She looked miserable and scared, even with that ridiculous smile plastered back on her face as she turned to address the crowd once more. 

He knew he had to get to her. She probably still believed she had caused his death. He had to show her that he was okay. That she didn’t have to blame herself, or suffer because of what she thought she had done to him. He had to get to Celaena.


	4. Chapter 4

Celaena sat down on a plush couch outside on her large balcony and opened a new book she had yet to start. She had already had some training, and one contest for the tournament; a running contest. She had thrown up afterwards, knowing full well that she was immensely out of shape, but at least she hadn't been the last one to finish. Besides that contest, some training, excessive bathing, a visit to the royal library, plus a small tour of the stone castle, Celaena hadn’t done much at all. She refused to go into the Glass section of the castle. Why anyone would want to live in a giant castle made entirely of glass was beyond her. 

The first Test was two days away, and Celaena was already dreading the harsh training Captain Westfall would push her through until then. But for now, for this afternoon, she had the whole rest of the day to herself. 

Within minutes, Celaena had already finished the first few chapters of her book, The Wind and The Rain. Just as she was turning the page to start a new one, Chaol opened the doors and stepped outside into the sunlight. 

"Don't you ever do anything but read?" Chaol said. He walked over to a chair next to where she was seated, holding her book and staring up at him.

Celaena stuck her tongue out at him and opened her book to continue reading.

"No really," he said, "what do you do besides read? Think up different ways to kill people? Plot murder?" 

Celaena lowered her book once more and crossed her arms. "I thought you didn't want to know anything about me."

Chaol narrowed his eyes slightly and turned to watch the clouds drift through the sky. "What do you parents make of their daughter being Adarlan's Assassin?"

"My parents died when I was eight," she said. 

Chaol turned back to face her. "So—"

"I was born in Terrasen, I became an assassin, I went to Endovier, and now I'm here," she looked over to the clouds and watched them float slowly across the blue sky. "That's it." 

Silence fell as they both stared out at the clouds. Celaena opened her book again and tried to forget about the painful memories he had just reminded her of. They sat there together for a long time, Celaena reading, and Chaol thinking about the things she had just told him. 

She didn't notice when he stood up and walked back inside the stone castle. 

————

Sam walked casually down the street, trying his hardest to blend into the crowd. Every so often he would spot someone sitting on a rooftop, in which case he would duck his head and try to look as normal as he possibly could. He was so close, and he couldn't risk one of them reporting that they had seen him, back to Arobynn.

Luckily for him, he made it to the gates and found that they were wide open, people walking in and out at their leisure. He strolled right through, following closely behind a young woman and her escort as though he were their bodyguard. He made eye contact with a guard and managed to keep a blank expression on his face as he gave a small nod to the man. Much to his relief, the guard tilted his head down in return and moved his eyes back to the street outside the gates to the castle. 

Not wanting to raise the suspicion of the young couple in front of him, he veered off to the right, walking into an intricate garden full of strangely shaped hedges. Sam looked up at the Glass Castle as he walked, and only lowered his gaze when he felt a shudder course through his body. Why anyone would want to live in a gigantic house made of glass was beyond him. 

He casually walked a lap around the front gardens, marking all doors and windows leading into the castle. He then began to stroll towards the other side of the castle that was made of stone. He decided immediately that he much preferred this part of the castle to the glass part. As he walked further down the path, he saw guards. The guards themselves didn’t scare Sam, but he felt his heart skip a beat when he counted how many were standing there. They were mostly hidden from view, but Sam knew where to look. He also knew that they were there for a reason. They were either protecting someone from outside forces, or protecting the outside from something inside. 

Trying to look as casual as he could, he walked down the path, passing the guards and a large balcony. He saw two figures sitting up there, and he realized with a jolt that the one facing him was the same man who had been riding next to Celaena when she had returned to Adarlan. Forcing himself to look away from the balcony, he continued down the path until he was out of sight from the guards. 

He took a couple deep breaths, not letting himself get his hopes up, then turned around and retraced his steps in order to see the balcony properly. Staying out of sight in the trees, Sam crouched down and allowed himself to finally look at the second figure on the balcony. As soon as he saw her long shinning hair, he knew it was her. He knew it was her sitting there holding a book and looking up at the sky. He couldn’t stop the smile that grew on his face. 

Celaena was saying something to the man next to her, but Sam was too far away to read her lips. The man didn’t respond to whatever she had said, and after a few minutes he stood and walked inside the Stone Castle. Sam sat in the trees watching Celaena as she read her book. He wasn’t sure who the man was, or whether he had really left, so he stayed crouched behind those trees. He knew he had to get to her somehow; had to show her that he was here, that he was alive. But not today, he told himself. Today, he had to learn as much as he could about the strange man, the Tournament Celaena was competing in, and the right time to reveal himself so he didn’t scare her away. She was likely in a very fragile state of mind after being a slave for a whole year, and he didn’t want to throw this new news on her right away. 

So that night, when Tern brought up food for Sam, he found nothing out of the ordinary. Sam was sitting on his bed, waiting for dinner with an emotionless expression on his face. He stood in the doorway and watched as Sam finished his meal and downed his water. He shoved the empty tray back towards the door, watching as Tern bent down to pick it up before turning around and leaving the room. 

As the locks clicked, Sam sighed and slowly allowed his smile to spread back onto his face. He flopped backwards onto his bed and stared up at the ceiling with the same free, floating feeling he had been feeling all evening since he saw Celaena. When he finally began to fall asleep, he had nearly finished going over his plan to get into the castle to see her. 

It was perfect. 

Sam fell asleep with a smile on his face that night.


	5. Chapter 5

Being locked up in the Keep, Sam had nothing to do except figure out the final details of his plan. He had already figured out by now that the first Test for the tournament would be happening in two days. Everyone that had been guarding Celaena's room would be there with her to watch for any attempts at escape, or just to keep the crowd safe from her. It would be his only opportunity to get into the castle without raising the suspicion of any guards or servants. 

He hadn't thought out what he would do regarding Arobynn and the assassins yet. Would he sneak out of the castle each evening to return to the Keep, or would he stay in the castle and not care about what Arobynn would do or say? Arobynn no longer owned Sam or Celaena, so it wasn't like he could be forced to return, was it?

Keeping these thoughts in the back of his mind, Sam waited in his room until two assassins came upstairs and dragged him down for training. All throughout his training, he contemplated this concern. Arobynn had arranged for Celaena's capture and enslavement at a death camp just for leaving his Keep with Sam. Did he really want to see what Arobynn would do if he caught Sam sneaking out to go see her at the Glass Castle? 

By the time Sam had bathed, eaten, and been locked in his room once more, he still didn't have an answer. He couldn't wait any longer to make his move though, so laid down, went to sleep, and decided to sort it out in the morning. 

————

Crouching in a rather large cluster of hedges in the garden of the Glass Castle, Sam watched the stone castle. He had been waiting here for several long hours, and he was feeling quite anxious. Normally in situations like this, Sam was calm and level headed, but for today he felt the need to shift and move around every few minutes. He couldn't force himself to sit still. He had a feeling it was because of everything weighing on him and telling him he couldn't afford to mess up or get caught. 

It was almost dusk. Sam sighed to himself as he made to crawl out and make his way back to the Keep. He knew he shouldn't wait any longer, or else the guards would lock him in and he would get caught by the assassins when they came to deliver his dinner and found the room empty. 

A sudden whisper of frantic footsteps made him snap his head up and crouch lower into the hedges, alert for anyone who could find him. He saw a small girl in servants clothes scurrying quickly for an entrance to the stone castle. Looking around for any hidden guards, Sam slowly stood from his spot. If he could get into the castle undetected now, he would be safe tomorrow when Celaena had to participate in her first Test. When he saw his path was empty, he began to run towards the girl. She didn't turn around, either not realizing he was there or assuming he was a guard. She took out a small key and unlocked the door, entering and leaving the door to close on its own. Sam reached the door right before it shut. He pulled himself inside and immediately shut himself into a small closet along the side of the hallway. His heart was pounding, and for a few moments all he could hear was his heavy breaths filling the silence. He put a hand over his mouth when he heard footsteps coming back towards the door. 

When the person had left and relocked the door, Sam squinted into the darkness and looked around the closet. He realized when he saw all of the cleaning supplies and uniforms, that he was in a servants hallway. he grabbed an outfit and began to change into it, carefully hiding his own clothes behind a bucket of folded rags. 

Sam pressed his ear to the door to listen for anyone that might be coming down the hallway. When he heard nothing, he opened the door and began a brisk walk. When he reached the end of the hallway, he went left, and continued walking. Only after walking through about seven more hallways and mapping the maze of the servants tunnels in his head did he hear another person. His first instinct was to hide somewhere, but he reminded himself that he was dressed as a servant, and hopefully whoever was about to round the corner wouldn't question him.

A girl turned the corner. She didn't notice him at first, as she was walking with her head down and looking into the basket she was carrying. Sam peered into her basket and saw an assortment of bandages and glass bottles full of strange liquids. She was a healer. 

"Excuse me." Sam stepped into her path and tilted his head down to meet her eyes. The girl gasped and stepped back, before letting her hazel eyes meet his dark brown ones. 

"I- I'm sorry. I didn't see you." The girl ducked her head back down and shifted her basket to her hip. 

"That's alright. I'm actually new here, so I was just wandering around. No one really showed me where I was supposed to go," He chuckled.

At this, the girl looked up, noticed he was also wearing a servant uniform, and laughed softly with him. "Oh, well where are you working? Maybe I could point you in the right direction." 

Sam's original plan had been to say he was a cleaner hired to clean rooms. But he had a gut feeling he would have more success if he stuck with a real servant. He would be less likely to be caught if he had a friend who could vouch for him. "Healing. I think I'm supposed to find the healers quarters to start my chores and tasks."

"Oh! I'm a healer as well! You must be Tally's replacement. Follow me." She smiled up at him warmly, gesturing with her head to go back the way she had come from. "What's your name?" 

"Ben." Sam replied simply, naming an old friend of his from the Keep. He figured he wouldn't have any trouble giving Ben's name as his, since Ben had been caught and killed on a mission long before everything had happened to him and Celaena. "What's yours?" 

"Sorscha."

Sam couldn't believe his luck. He smiled to himself as they walked through a couple more hallways and up some stairs before stopping outside of a set of double doors. 

"This is the main entrance to the infirmary. Around this corner," she began before leading him around another corner, "is where we go for orders and to enter the infirmary." Sorscha continued showing him around the infirmary and the hallways that led to important rooms he would need to know. He mapped it all into his brain, marking all possible ways to Celaena's rooms. 

After Sorscha had introduced him to a few of the other healers like her, the head healer Amithy, and told him of his first chores, the two made their way back down to where they had first bumped into each other. 

"Since you're staying in the castle instead of going home at night," she began, reciting what Amithy had told him a few minutes ago, "you can go down this hallway here, and the third door on the left is yours. Us healers get our own rooms, so don't worry about having to share." 

They bid each other goodnight, and Sam walked down the hall to his room. He shut and locked the door before looking around at his small quarters. There was a small bed with cream colored sheets pushed into the corner opposite the door. There was also a small wooden table and a chair that sat next to the door, and a small wooden dresser in the corner by the bed, with a set of candles and a candle holder. He made a mental note to find matches in the morning, and set off to the bathroom shared by the male servants. There were three others in there, and they kindly told him where he could find more uniforms, sleeping clothes, and a few other necessities he would need. Thanking them, Sam left and made his way back to his room. 

He found he was only slightly worried about Arobynn. Since Arobynn wasn't Sam's owner anymore, he couldn't ask the King to look through his servants and find Sam to send back. Sam was officially a healer of Adarlan. Arobynn couldn't do anything.

Smiling, he laid down on his bed, wincing at the springs that stuck his side. He made another mental note; try and fix that in the morning. With no further worries, Sam went to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating for literally forever!!! I do also post these to wattpad, and I kind of forgot to post them here for a while, so if this happens again, check there if you have it!!

It was the morning of the first Test, and when Chaol dragged Celaena out of her bed she felt a giant knot in her stomach. But she had no reason to be nervous, did she?

Training was canceled for today, so Celaena decided to accompany Chaol around the castle. She was dressed in a new gown given to her by her eccentric handmaiden Philippa— a lovely lilac silk dress with creamy white lace accents and pearl beading. As she walked down the hallway, she smiled at the gracefulness the dress moved with. 

They rounded a corner and stopped abruptly to keep from running into two women. One, Celaena recognized as a girl she had seen hanging around Prince Dorian and the Queen, Georgina. The other, Celaena instantly recognized as an Eyllwe woman. 

She was absolutely stunning, long and lean, her features perfectly formed and smooth. Her loose white dress flowed majestically around her, contrasting with her dark skin. Gold bracelets and anklets covered her wrists and legs, along with a thin gold circlet sitting crowned on her head. Two male guards stood two paces behind her, armed to the teeth with an assortment of Eyllwe daggers and swords, both closely studying Chaol and Celaena; weighing the threat they might give.

The Eyllwe girl was a princess.

Celaena snapped her eyes away from the princess, focusing on the polite conversation Chaol was holding with the lady-in-waiting next to the princess. 

"—Her Royal Highness the Princess Nehemia Ytger of Eyllwe." 

Chaol bowed low, Celaena dropping into as low a curtsy she could manage without falling. She knew the name. She had often heard the Eyllwe slaves in Endovier boasting of the Princess Nehemia's beauty and bravery. Nehemia, the Light of Eyllwe, who would save her country from the tyranny of Adarlan.

"And this must be the Lady Lillian." 

"Yes, Lady Kaltain, this is Lady Lillian Gordaina. Lillian, Lady Kaltain Rompier." Chaol made the introduction, giving Celaena a sharp glare that said "play nice."

But Celaena turned away from Kaltain, focusing her attention completely on Nehemia. "Welcome to Rifthold, Your Highness," she said in Eyllwe.

Princess Nehemia smiled slowly while the others gaped. "Thank you," she replied, her voice low.

"I imagine you've had a long journey," Celaena continued in Eyllwe. "Have you just arrived today, Your Highness?"

Nehemia's guards shared a suspicious glance while Nehemia's brows rose slightly. Not too many northerners spoke their language. "Yes, and the queen sent this one" —she jerked her head to her right towards Kaltain—"to bring me around." 

Celaena ran her tongue along her teeth, trying not to laugh. She decided to change the subject. "What do you make of the castle?" 

"It is the most foolish thing I've ever seen," Nehemia said, scanning the stone wall as if she could see outside of it and into the glass castle. "I'd sooner enter a castle made of sand." 

Chaol and Kaltain watched them with some disbelief. 

"I'm afraid I haven't understood a word you have said," Kaltain interrupted. Celaena just barely refrained from rolling her eyes. This did not go unnoticed by the princess.

"We," Nehemia said in the common tongue, "were talking... with the weather." Her accent was incredibly thick.

"About. The weather," Kaltain corrected sharply. 

"Watch your tone," Celaena snapped quickly before she could stop herself.

"Well if she's here to learn our ways, I should correct her so she doesn't sound foolish," Kaltain replied with a vicious smirk.

"Your Highness," Chaol said, subtly placing himself forward in between Celaena and Nehemia. "Are you having a tour of the castle?" 

Nehemia leaned around him slightly to meet Celaena's eyes. Her brows were yet again raised as if she had expected a translation by now. A smile tugged on Celaena's lips as she translated Chaol's question. 

"If you consider this structure of madness to be a castle," Nehemia responded.

Celaena turned to Chaol. "She says yes."

"I never knew so many words to mean one," Kaltain smiled with faux sweetness. 

Celaena dug her nails into her palms. She was going to rip this girls throat out. 

Both Nehemia and Chaol noticed this subtle change in Celaena, the latter taking another slight step toward Nehemia. 

The Princess clicked her tongue. "Get rid of her," she said flatly to Celaena, waving her hand towards Kaltain. 

"You're dismissed," Celaena said shortly to Kaltain, flashing a similar smile to the Lady. 

"But the queen—" 

"If that is Her Highness's wish, than it shall be granted," Chaol interrupted. Celaena could've sworn she saw a glimmer of amusement in the Captain's eyes. 

Kaltain huffed and strode away down the hall. Nehemia simply reached forward and intertwined her arm with Celaena's, asking her how she had learned to speak Eyllwe so well. Celaena laughed politely as they began to stroll down the corridor, engaging in a conversation that covered a wide variety of topics. 

When Chaol stopped them outside of a door and started a quiet conversation with a nearby sentry and a councilman, Nehemia suddenly turned and grabbed Celaena's hand and squeezed it. Her fingers were surprisingly calloused— in all the places a sword or dagger hilt would reside.

"Will you keep me company while I am here, Lady Lillian?"

Celaena blinked at the request, feeling quite honored. "Of course. When I am available, I will gladly attend to you."

"I have attendants. I wish for someone to talk to."

Celaena beamed and nodded, turning as Chaol turned to face them. "The council would like to see you," she translated for the Princess.

Nehemia let out a low groan, but thanked Chaol in the common tongue before turning to Celaena. "I'm glad we met, Lady Lillian. Peace be with you."

"And with you," Celaena murmured, watching her leave. 

She had never had many friends. The ones that she had had, often disappointed her. Sometimes with devastating consequences, as she had learned one summer a while back after staying with the Silent Assassins of the Red Desert. After that incident, she had sworn to never trust girls again. Especially girls with agendas and power of their own. That was definitely Nehemia.

But as the door closed behind the ivory train of the Eyllwe Princess's dress, Celaena wondered if she'd been wrong to assume the worst.


	7. Chapter 7

Though she would never admit it, Celaena was scared. She had no idea what to expect at their first Test. Her body was sore and aching from the intense training over the past couple days. She was secretly hoping it wouldn't be anything to physically demanding.

As Celaena and Chaol entered the giant sparring room, she glanced at her competitors and reminded herself that they were just as clueless as her. They all wore the same anxious expression. Well, all except the largest of them, a brute named Cain who hailed from the White Fang Mountains. He was the Duke Perrington's contestent. Celaena hadn't even met the man besides a few glares across the training room and she still loathed him with every fiber of her being. 

She turned her attention back to the room. A towering black curtain had been swept across the room, covering the other half from sight. Whatever lay beyond the curtain, she realized, would decide the fate of one of them.

The normal ruckus that filled the training room had been replaced by a rustling quiet. Celaena kept close to Chaol. The sponsors sat atop the mezzanine looking over the black and white checkered floor. Her gaze briefly met with that of the Crown Prince. He flashed her a grin, those sapphire eyes gleaming in the dim light of the room. She didn't return his smile, instead she lowered her gaze back down to the Weapons Master who was now talking with some trainers and Chaol, who had walked off without her noticing.

"It's a bit dramatic, don't you think?" The man directly to her left murmured under his breath. 

Celaena turned her head to look at the man. She recognized him as Nox Owen, a young thief from Perranth. She had seen him a couple of times during training, and figured he wasn't much of a threat. If anything, he might prove to be a good ally. 

"Captain Westfall refused to train me this morning," she offered. What was the harm in admitting that?

Now held out his hand, which she shook once firmly before letting go. There was no need for introductions; they both knew who the other was. Well, he thought he knew who she was at least. 

"I mean did you see Verin? He looks like he might be sick." Nox pointed to the thief who, like always, was standing close to Cain, taunting the other nearby Champions. Today however, his skin looked ashy and pale, his eyes were red and bloodshot. He looked terrible.

"I heard him talking to Cain," said a tiny voice behind them. They both turned to find Pelor, the youngest of the assassins in the Tournament. Celaena had spent about half a day watching Pelor back in the initial days of training and concluded that he could truly use any training he could get. 

"His voice hasn't even deepened. How did he wind up here?" She thought to herself, keeping a blank expression as she held Pelor's eye contact. 

"What did he say?" Nox questioned.

Pelor's face paled a bit as he said, "Bill Chastain, the eye-eater who was pulled out of Calaculla to be here, he was killed last night."

A Champion was found dead? And a notorious killer at that. "How?" she demanded.

Pelor swallowed hard. "Verin said it wasn't pretty. Like someone ripped him wide open." 

The three fell silent and began to study the other Champions. A hush had fallen over them. Verin stood silent know as well, paler if possible. Celaena heard Pelor whisper from behind her, "He said Chastain's body was found in ribbons." 

A chill snuck its way down her body. She kept her blank expression, looking down at the floor. Who could have done something like that?

Sam:

Since he had come to the castle, Sam had been put to work. He was running around doing errands and chores for basically the whole day, and he had no free time to find Celaena and break the news of his being alive to her. Which is why as he and a handful of other healers walked into the giant sparring room, Sam felt a little scared. If she saw him and he caused her to mess up on her Test, she would be shipped straight back to Endovier. He had to stay out of her sight. 

As he and the other healers entered, the guards were all making their way to their respective positions along the walls. He stayed in his line, walking with his head down, praying Celaena wouldn't look over. Since he was a good head taller than the next tallest healer, he had a feeling she would pick him out if the group pretty easily. The training master, Brullo, began speaking to the competitors, so Sam let out a sigh at the narrowly avoided complication. 

"Your first Test has arrived." Brullo grinned broadly, a wicked sort of gleam in his eye. Sam didn't like the look of that gleam one bit. 

A guard standing by the opposite wall pulled the large curtain back, and Sam's nerves instantly calmed. He bit back a laugh. An archery contest? This was too funny. Celaena could do this in her sleep. 

"Rules are simple. You get five shots, one for each target. The one with the worst aim goes home."

Some contestants began murmuring, but Celaena was working, not too hard he noticed, to hold back a smirk. Sam felt a smirk of his own coming, and he had to fight to keep a neutral expression. 

Brullo went on, "You each get one go, so form a line. The Test begins now."

Celaena turned to walk over to the slow-forming line, and Sam instantly turned around to busy himself with unwrapping things on the table behind him. Luckily, two others joined him, so it didn't bring any unwanted attention over to them. 

But turning around didn't help, he knew it likely wouldn't. 

He could feel her gaze burning through the back of his head.


	8. Chapter 8

"The Test begins now."

Celaena was giving a feeble attempt to hide her growing smirk. She looked at Chaol from across the room and read his eyes. They said, "Don't show off."

She just smiled sweetly at him with a look that said, "Me? Show off? Never."

She turned in place to join the line, surprised to see that no one had really hurried to it. Apparently none of them were in any rush to go back to whatever cesspit they had come here from either. 

Her gaze drifted as she walked to the line and fell on a small line of healers standing at the opposite wall from the targets. Her heart stumbled, and so did her feet, as she saw the back of a very tall, brown-haired healer. 

Sam.

No. 

No way.

Snap out of it.

Not today, of all days, are you going to hallucinate him. 

Snap. Out of it.

The tears were in her eyes before she could hold them back. She tucked her head and blinked her eyes furiously. She realized she had been standing in place staring at his back for a little longer than she probably should've. Nox was watching her curiously from his spot at the end of the line, and she could feel Chaol's sharp eyes fixed on her face. This was not going to happen today. 

Her heart refused to calm down. It was practically thudding out of her ribcage. Piercing her skin. Her breathing was starting to speed up. 

Snap out of it.

Endovier had caused her to never fully heal the wound that Sam's death had given her. In fact, it had only opened the wound further. Infected it. Scarred her. 

She could not handle this right now. 

But she would. She would do it. She would take her part in this stupid contest and then she would win. She would serve her years, and then she would be free. That's only four things. Easy peasy. 

The line moved surprisingly fast, and Celaena managed to calm her racing heart slightly. Once her breathing was almost normal again, she began watching the others. 

Grave, a repulsive assassin who clung to Cain like a leech, did pretty well. Four bulls-eyes, and his final shot on the target furthest away was on the innermost ring. But then Cain stepped up, drew back his bow, the black ring on his finger glinting in the light, and fired. 

Again, and again, and again, and again. All in the span of a few seconds. 

Five bulls-eyes. If Celaenas heart wasn't already pounding, it would have skipped a beat as the final shot rang out in the silent chamber. Her only consolation was that none of his arrows had hit the exact center; the tiny black dot right in the middle. One had come extremely close though.

The line began moving again, and all of her thoughts went back and forth between two things: Sam and Cain. Sam, laying there on that stone slab in Arobynn's dungeon, Cain getting clapped on the back by Brullo as he set down his bow and strode away grinning, Sam kissing her in the safety and comfort of their apartment and smiling as she kissed him back with just as much passion, Cain getting all the attention and all the applause for his five bulls-eyes. Her breathing was shaky and her hands were trembling. She gripped them into fists and held them in by her sides. 

Suddenly, Nox was at the line, picking up his bow and nocking his arrow. He did surprisingly well, hitting three bulls-eyes, and two in the innermost ring. 

Then Celaena found herself standing at the white line. She had reached the front. It was her turn.

They had done some archery practice a few days earlier, and she had been excellent. Or, as excellent as she could be without drawing attention. 

She tried to swallow, but her throat was dry. Her hand were no longer trembling, but her heart was still leaping to get out of her chest. So much so, that all she could hear was the pounding of her blood, the steady but fast beat of her heart. 

"I am Celaena Sardothian. I am Adarlan's Assassin. They don't know that, but I do. I am going to win. I am Celaena Sardothian, and I will not be afraid," she thought to herself, taking in a slow breath. 

She pulled back her bow string, letting the first arrow fly on her exhale. 

Bulls-eye.

Right on the center black dot that no one had hit directly yet. 

Some of the men stoped chuckling, but she didn't notice them or even hear them as she nocked her next arrow. 

Bulls-eye. Not directly in the middle this time, but she hadn't been aiming for it anyways. 

For the third target, she aimed for the edge of the innermost ring, hitting her mark with deadly precision. She did the same for the fourth mark, but aimed for the opposite side of the ring.

As she reached her last arrow, her heart had slowed enough that she could hear one of the competitors, a red-haired mercenary named Renault, snigger. She pulled back her final shot. 

The last target was nothing more than a little blur of color, so far back that it's bulls-eye was nothing more than a little speck of yellow. She couldn't even see the tiny black dot at the center—the dot that no one had yet touched, even Cain. 

She pulled back her string a bit further and let the arrow fly. Her arrow flew across the room and completely obliterated the tiny black dot. The room fell silent as they stared. 

No one said anything as she stalked back to the table and placed her bow down. Chaol was scowling, but she paid him no attention. She hadn't been that inconspicuous. She turned to rejoin the line, keeping her eyes averted from the line of healers that were watching, and instead turning her attention to the Crown Prince. He was beaming down at her. At least someone appreciated her efforts. 

When the marks were compared by Brullo himself, one of the soldiers ended up being sent home. Pelor looked as though he might faint, and honestly, Celaena couldn't blame him. She had thought for sure that he would be going home today.

Celaena immediately made her way over to Chaol when the Test was announced completed, and demanded she be taken back to her rooms straight away. He obliged, and Celaena followed directly behind him as they walked out of the sparring room.

————

"I didn't show off!" 

As soon as they had reached her rooms, Chaol had snapped at her for showing off and hitting the final target in the dead center. He should be grateful she purposefully missed the others.

"You call that not showing off?!" Chaol turned red as he yelled. 

"Yes! I do!" Celaena didn't back down. She was upset and riled up and kind of pissed at herself. She was hallucinating her dead lover now, and she really just wanted to sleep. 

"And what was going on at the beginning of the Test?! You were practically shaking the whole damn time! I wouldn't take you for someone who gets nervous over a silly archery contest!" Chaol yelled.

"Well you guessed wrong I suppose! I guess next time I'll ace the Test like I should've for this one! Seems like that's what you want from me!" She could feel the tears burning to get out, but she held them in and turned away from him. 

He walked towards her and grabbed her arm to get her to face him and practically growled, "You don't-"

"GET OUT!" Celaena yanked her arm out of his grip, giving him a wicked glare, before turning and slamming the door to her bedroom. 

Chaol stood outside the door with his hand still extended like he was holding her arm. Her face had been terrifying in that moment. The anger he saw in her eyes, but also the fear. What had caused her to feel that way? It was a simple archery test, something that Adarlan's Assassin could do in her sleep. Right as he turned to walk away, he heard a gut wrenching sob from through the door. He froze in place. She had probably assumed he had ran out the moment she shut the door and didn't know he was still listening. She let out another sob, this one quieter than the first, almost like she was trying to be stop herself from letting it out. Something was wrong with her, and Captain Westfall found himself wanting to run in there to find out what it was. No, to find out if she was okay. 

Did he care for her?


	9. Chapter 9

Sam breathed out a sigh of relief as Celaena left the training room with Captain Westfall. He knew Celaena had seen him. He knew because he knew her, and he had been able to see the obvious distress in her as the line of competitors moved forwards. Though it may not have looked like anything more than nerves to bystanders, he could tell she was on the verge of breaking down. 

Was she willing to believe that she had actually seen him though, or would she push aside and call it a silly hallucination? He would give her the afternoon to recover, then he would ease into it. He didn't want to break her any further by dumping it all on her at once. Wait a bit to let her recover from today, then meet her in her rooms. That would work, right?

He and the other healers from the Test began packing supplies and walking back to their quarters. 

When they enter the infirmary, Amithy is nowhere to be seen. They all noticeably sigh in relief before moving to continue their daily chores. It's not that they don't like the head healer, it's just that she can be a little hardcore at times. This was something Sam had learned the hard way over the past few days.

Sam brought the small basket he was carrying over to his small workspace in the back of the room. He looked around for Sorscha, and saw her talking to a very elegant, and quite beautiful, young woman. He examined her dress and jewelry, and of course the two angry looking bodyguards that came running into the room, and put together that this must be the Eyllwe princess he had been hearing about. 

Her guards began moving towards her, and when Sorscha and Nehemia saw them they immediately said their parting words and moved away from each other. Sorscha saw Sam and walked towards him, while the guards began moving Nehemia towards the door. 

"What was that about?" Sam asked quickly before Sorscha could start a different conversation.

She smiled at him and said, "The Princess was just asking about a headache tonic. She gets them regularly apparently."

Sam stared at her. From the urgency of their goodbyes, he knew this was not the case. He kept his mouth shut though, and smiled back at her. They started up a pleasant conversation about the healing herbs that she was sent to purchase a few days prior. 

This conversation eventually fell to a comfortable silence, until the girl named Cara who had been next to him walked over to whisper to Sam, "Hey, so what was that at the Test?"

Sam was taken aback at first, until he figured she was talking about his sudden turn around when he saw Celaena turning in his direction. "What do you mean?" he asked, deciding it was better to be safe and make sure that was what she was referring to. 

"I mean, when you panicked and turned around when the Lady Lillian turned towards you!" Cara raised her voice slightly, but not enough to catch the attention of any nearby healers. 

"Wait, what happened? I want in!" Sorscha looked back and forth from Sam to Cara, an excited look on her face. 

"Ben here, was making heart eyes at Lillian, the female contestant. But when she turned to face our direction, he totally panicked and turned around so she wouldn't see his face." Cara explained. Sam had almost forgotten that he had given a fake name, and took a second to process that she was still talking about him.

"Ben!" Sorscha was beaming at Sam, while Cara was smirking suggestively. 

Sam rolled his eyes and fought back a smile. "I wasn't making heart eyes at anyone, Cara, I was just watching."

"Yes, watching her. You are so taken. I can tell." She poked his arm and leaned against the table.

"But really? One of the Champions? You know she's a thief, right Ben?" Sorscha's face switched to concerned, studying Sam's to see what he was thinking. 

Sam didn't let her see anything but a blank expression as he said, "I don't know what you guys are talking about, I'm not taken with anyone."

Sorscha and Cara both squealed. Sam had smiled. Apparently talking about his feelings for Celaena was one thing he couldn't do with a straight face.

"Have you met her? Have you talked to her?"

"She's still a thief, but that might be your thing I won't judge."

"She is rather gorgeous isn't she?"

"Are you going to try to talk to her?" 

The two began talking over each other in hushed voices, murmuring excitedly about the new gossip. Gossiping about the Court and the royals gets boring after a while, especially when it's the same news over and over again. This new news was the best they had heard in weeks. 

"Okay, I give up! I know her!" Sam revealed, eager to shut them up. He was never too fond of gossiping over small things like who's taken with whom. 

"You know her? As in you've met her before, or you.... know her?" Cara asked, emphasizing the last two words or her question.

"I know her." I guess we'll go with it, Sam thought. 

"Isn't she from somewhere in Fenharrow? Where did you meet her if you're from here?" Sorscha asked.

Sam almost shook his head to correct her and say that she was from Terrasen, but he realized her alias of Lillian might be from Fenharrow. He simply replied, "We lived together for quite a while." No shame in admitting that, right?

Both girl's jaws dropped. 

"You lived together? So you really knew each other then?" Cara asked.

"It wasn't like what you're probably both thinking. Well, not at first." He was saying too much. He needed to stop talking. But he didn't want to. He wanted to tell them all about her; what she's like, her wicked humor, her overwhelming sense of adventure, but most of all, her big heart. He wanted to shout it from the top of the glass castle that he loved her. 

The two girls had been watching his face carefully while he was thinking about her. To them, it was apparent that he loved her, and they decided not to question it.

"Well.... Are you going to try to get her alone? To talk to her?" Sorscha asked.

"That's the plan, yes," he responded. 

He finally took a step away from the table to look them both in the eyes. They both wore similar expressions of happiness, though he couldn't understand why. Why did they care about his love life?

"We need a solid plan then," Sorscha said, "to get you out of here, without Amithy noticing for an afternoon."

"Champions train in the afternoons sometimes though, don't they?" Cara asked, turning to Sorscha.

"Hm, an evening then."

They turned to Sam again, who stood there staring at them. He couldn't believe that these two were so willing to help him. "I've.... figured out where her rooms are?" he offered. 

Sorscha smiled while Cara furrowed her brows, thinking. "So we just need to figure out how and when to do it." 

Suddenly, Sorscha hopped in place and leaned in to say, "I think I have an idea!" She whispered it in Sam's ear first, then turned to Cara and whispered it to her. Sam was suddenly very glad to have allies who knew the castle well.


	10. Chapter 10

Celaena wandered around her rooms, bored out of her mind. She had already trained this morning, and she didn't feel like reading or doing any of the things she normally did. The Test the day prior had been a rough experience for her, and not because it was hard; because she had come very close to having a breakdown in front of all of the most important people in her life. The people that determined her freedom. 

She shook her head and walked into the gaming room. Her eyes immediately fell on the pianoforte sitting against the opposing wall. She hadn't played in a very long time. Not since well before Sam. 

She walked over slowly and pulled out the wooden bench, wincing at the loud scraping sound it made. She sat down gingerly and gently ran her fingers over a few keys. Her mind began to wander. She wondered what Sam would think of all this, if he were alive. She wondered if Arobynn knew or even cared that she was out of the mines. Would he try to come to the castle to free her? She kept her thoughts well away from wondering who might have betrayed her—things had been such a haze when she'd been captured, with losing Sam and her freedom all at once. 

A gentle voice pulled her out of her daze. "Do you play?"

Celaena pulled her head away from the instrument and met Nehemia's gaze. 

"I don't mean to intrude."

"It's alright," Celaena responded in Eyllwe. "What may I do for you, Your Highness?" 

"You really needn't call me that, Lillian," she smiled as she sat down in a soft chair. "I came here to have some decent company. I wish for someone to talk to."

Celaena smiled back at her and moved to sit in a chair across from the princess. "Of course."

"May I ask you something?" Nehemia tilted her head, continuing when Celaena nodded, "How do you know how to speak Eyllwe so well? And you use the intonation of the peasants. Is that taught in your books?"

Celaena ignored the horrid thoughts that came with those questions and replied, "I studied it for several years, and I knew an Eyllwe woman who taught me for about a year. That's probably where it comes from."

"A slave of yours?" Nehemia's tone sharpened and she leaned forward.

"No," Celaena replied quickly, "I don't believe in keeping slaves." Her gut twisted as she was once again reminded of all the slaves she had left behind in Endovier. Most of the slaves in the two prison camps, Endovier and Calaculla, were from Eyllwe. 

Nehemia's voice softened as she said, "Then you are very unlike your court companions." 

They sat in silence for a brief moment before Celaena asked, "So, if you don't mind my asking, why are you in Rifthold?"

"I came at the request of my father to learn your language and customs so I might better serve Eyllwe and my people."

Given what she'd heard of Nehemia, she figured that wasn't the entirety of it, but she smiled politely as she said, "How long will you remain in Rifthold?" 

"Until my father sends for me again." She began playing with her bracelets as she frowned at the rain that was starting to fall outside. "If I am lucky, I will be here until Spring. Unless my father decides an Adarlan man might make me a good consort, then I'll be here until that matter is settled." Seeing the annoyance in Nehemia's eyes, Celaena felt a tiny shred of pity for whatever poor man her father might choose. 

"Whom would you marry? Prince Dorian?" It was a prying question, and a bit impertinent, and she found she regretted it the moment it cane out. 

Nehemia just clicked her tongue and smirked. "That pretty boy? He grinned at me far too much— oh and you should only see how he winked at the other women in the court. I want my husband to warm my bed, and my bed only." She looked down at Celaena's outfit, a lovely white top with black pants today, and she noticed the princess's gaze linger on the few scars covering her hands. "Where are you from, Lillian?" 

"Bellhaven—a small fishing port in Fenharrow. Smells awful there," she chuckled. It wasn't a lie. Every time she visited Bellhaven for a mission, the reek of fish made her gag if she got too near the docks.

Nehemia chuckled too. "Rifthold smells terrible. Too many people in one tiny area. At least in my home in Banjali," she said, naming the capital city of Eyllwe, "the sun burns everything up. My father's river palace smells like lotus blossoms."

Celaena smiled at that. She had noticed a distinct smell floating in the air around the princess the first time they met, and now she was able to put together that she was smelling lotus blossoms. 

As the rain picked up, it became slightly more difficult to hear each other, since the rain was pounding right down against the outside wall to her rooms. 

"Lillian, I have another question for you." Nehemia leaned forward and raised her voice a bit more.

"Alright," she replied, leaning forward as well.

"I've seen you running with Captain Westfall in the mornings. I also believe I heard you mention something about 'training'," she said this word in the common tongue before continuing in Eyllwe, "to him the last time that we talked together. Are you competing in this Tournament I've heard so much about? I heard talk that there was a female contestant."

"I...." Celaena sighed. She knew this was coming, and knew there was no point in denying it. "I am."

Nehemia leaned back and clapped her hands, proud to have figured it out. She stood up and began walking towards the door, motioning for Celaena to follow her. Confused, Celaena stood and hurried after the princess. 

As they walked into the hallway, Celaena's guards jumped to attention, and by the looks on their faces, they had not been aware of the princess being in Celaena's rooms. Celaena faced one of the younger, handsome guards named Ress who had been immensely kind to her since she arrived, and said in the common tongue, "Ress, I promise I did not know Princess Nehemia was going to come here, and I don't even know how she got in. I mean no harm, and she only wishes to take me somewhere. Could you accompany us to wherever the Princess wishes to go?" She added a soft: "Please?" with a smile.

Ress lowered his weapon and stared at her. He had a bit if a crush on her, and she definitely knew it; and definitely took advantage of it to take frequent trips to the kitchens for chocolate cake. 

Knowing the princess had been in the room with Celaena for a while already, and knowing that she was now asking them to accompany the pair, he shrugged. There were four of them standing there, and they all nodded when they saw Ress shrug. With a smile, Celaena turned to Nehemia who had been patiently waiting for them to sort it out, and told her in Eyllwe, "Alright. Where are we going?" 

Nehemia linked arms with the assassin and began pulling her down the hall at a quick pace. 

Celaena turned to the princess and tilted her head. "That reminds me—where are your guards? I would've thought they would be following you everywhere you went."

Nehemia chuckled as she replied, "I may have told them I was spending the day with Queen Georgina, and that their services would not be required since the Queen has an overwhelming amount of guards with her at all times." 

"But you aren't spending the day with the Queen..." Celaena asked, now a bit puzzled. 

"I know," Nehemia replied, winking at her friend before turning to face forward once again. 

Celaena stared at the princess as they hurried down the hall. The only thing she was thinking as she rounded the corner and was practically dragged into the giant sparring room was, "I like her."


	11. Chapter 11

Dorian strode down the halls with his hands in his pockets. He had just escaped from an afternoon of talking to potential brides in court with his mother. He didn't really know where he was going, only that he needed to walk—anywhere. 

The clash of swords echoed down the hallway, and he found himself moving towards it. Training was supposed to be done for the day, so why were people in the sparring room?

He paused outside the doorway, and watched. Her golden hair shone bright as she weaved in and out of a knot of four guards. She dodged and twirled around them, almost like she was taunting them. He noticed her left side was wide open, but before he could move forward to give her a warning, two of the guards lunged from opposing sides to take her out. She was waiting though. It was a trap, and one that they had just fallen for. She whirled around and somehow sent them flying across the floor. They both stood up and moved out of the way to let the fight continue. 

Not even five seconds later, the other two guards were laying on the floor, their swords laying several feet away. Celaena stopped, a grin spreading across her face. The sheen of sweat illuminated her high cheekbones, and her bright blue eyes sparkled. 

Someone began clapping to the left as the four guards all walked off the mat sweating. Princess Nehemia approached the assassin, still clapping. She was dressed in her usual white gown, but now clutching a large, ornately carved wooden staff in one hand. 

Dorian looked around the room as the princess clasped the assassin on the shoulder and said something that made them both laugh. Where was Chaol or Brullo? Why in the world was Adarlan's Assassin here with the Princess of Eyllwe? And with weapons! 

Dorian approached, smiling at the princess as he bowed. He took Celaena's hand and raised it to his lips. "Lady Lillian," he muttered onto her skin. 

"Your Highness," she said, trying to pull her hand away from his. But Dorian held fast to her calloused palm and began leading her away with another smile to the princess. When they were out of hearing distance, he demanded, "Where's Chaol?" 

She crossed her arms and frowned. "I don't know. If I were to bet, though, I'd wager he is inspecting the eye-eater's corpse or disposing of Sven's body."

"Why is Princess Nehemia here?" 

"She called on me, but the rain got too loud for us to talk so she dragged me here to see me fight." 

"But how did she know-"

"She figured it out. Well she kind of figured it out. Then she asked me if I was a competitor, and I told her yes," Celaena cocked her head, maintaining eye contact with him.

He stared at her. She just shrugged and turned to walk away. Irritated, but slightly curious, he grabbed her arm. His heart quickened when her eyes met his again. Yes, sweaty as she was, she was beautiful. 

"Aren't you afraid of me? Or are you as deft with your sword as Captain Westfall?" 

He stepped closer, tightening his grip on her arm. "Better," he whispered in her ear. There: she was blushing. 

"Very amusing, Your Highness."

He bowed dramatically. "Thank you." He looked up at Nehemia, standing alone behind Celaena and said, "You can't have her here."

"And why is that? Do you believe I'm going to kill her? Why would I kill the one person in this castle who isn't an insufferable idiot?" She gave him a pointed look to suggest that he was part of the majority.

"It simply can't happen. She's here to learn our customs, not to spar."

Celaena chuckled. "She's a princess. She can do what she wants."

Dorian rolled his eyes. "I'll escort her back to her chambers."

She gestured widely for him to pass and said, "Wyrd help you." 

He walked towards the princess, who was waiting with a hand on her hip. "Your Highness, I'm afraid I must return you to your chambers." 

Nehemia looked behind his shoulder and raised her eyebrows. To his dismay, Celaena began speaking in Eyllwe to the princess, who stomped her staff and hissed something back at him. She spoke much to fast for him to understand, especially since his skill with the language was spotty at best. 

"She says you can return to your cushions and dancing and leave us be," Celaena translated with a smile. He had a feeling harsher words had been used by the princess. 

He tried to look serious as he said, "Tell her it is unacceptable for her to spar."

Celaena said something, to which the princess waved her hand and strode past them and onto the sparring mat. 

"What did you say?!" Dorian turned on the assassin.

"I said you volunteered to be her first partner. You know, show her the basics," she said with a wink, before strolling over to the water station against the left wall. He strode after her.

"I will not spar with her."

"Would you rather spar with me?" 

"Perhaps if we had a private lesson in your chambers tonight," he said smoothly in an attempt to get her flustered again. 

"I'll be waiting," she replied as she twirled a strand of hair around her finger. "Now go, you don't want to upset Princess Nehemia."

To his relief, she had set down her wooden staff and selected a practice sword. He walked over to the rack and grabbed one for himself, before walking to the princess. 

"You stand like this," he said to her, taking a defensive stance. She copied his position and raised her sword to meet his. 

Celaena stood off to the side and watched with a smile as the prince began leading the princess through the basics of swordplay. 

After a few minutes of instruction from Dorian in pretty terrible Eyllwe, Nehemia lunged and slapped his wrist with her sword. Celaena bit down on her laughter as he grimaced and rubbed the joint, but then smiled when Nehemia began gloating. 

She was suddenly dragged away from the wall and facing an angry Chaol. "What is this?!"

"What is what?" She smiled sweetly.

"Why is Dorian sparring with the Princess of Eyllwe?" 

"Because... I volunteered him to teach her how to fight?" 

Chaol turned and stormed towards Dorian and Nehemia. The pair stopped what they were doing and Dorian followed Chaol to a corner. They spoke quickly—angrily—before Chaol stalked back over to her. "Your guards will take you back to your chambers."

"What?" She took a step away from him, anger written on her face. "I have to train!" 

"Your training with Brullo ended four hours ago. Besides it's almost dinner. You need to rest as well."

"That's Absurd!" she cried. Nehemia cast her a worried glance from where she and Dorian were standing, but the assassin sent her a reassuring smile. "I'm not going to hurt her or try anything you insufferable moron."

"Are you honestly so blind to why we can't allow you two to be here together?"

"Can't allow—" Celaena took a shaky breath and balled her hands into fists. "You think I want to go back to Endovier? You think I'm not aware of the fact that if I try to flee, I'll be hunted for the rest of my life? You think I don't know why I vomit after we go on runs in the mornings? My body is a wreck! I need to spend the extra time training, and you shouldn't punish me for it!"

"I'm not going to pretend to know how a criminal mind works," he sneered.

She threw her hands in the air. "I hate sitting around locked in my room, bored out of my senses. I hate all of these guards and all of this nonsense! I hate," she clenched her jaw and stepped forward to be right in his face, "being told what I can and can't do, and I hate you!"

He tapped his foot and glared at her. "Are you done now?"

There was no kindness in Chaol's face, and she clicked her tongue as she stormed out, guards following right behind her. Her fist was aching to bash his teeth in.

————

She reached the door to her chambers and stopped, taking a deep breath. She turned around to face the four guards who had ran behind her all the way from the sparring room. She met each of their eyes, stopping on Ress's, and said, "Thank you for letting us go down to spar in the first place. I sincerely hope you don't get in too much trouble for doing it."

"It'll be nothing, I'm sure Miss Sardothian," Ress responded, nodding his head. 

With a small nod, she entered her rooms and shut the door. She walked straight to her bedroom to grab fresh clothes to change into after her bath. When she reached the door, she noticed it was open slightly. She could've sworn she closed it before she left earlier today. 

Cautiously, she peered around the doorframe and looked into the brightly lit room. 

She gasped, pushed the door wide open and stumbled through, eyes wide. She couldn't believe it.

Because sitting on the edge of her bed, staring at her with his beautiful golden brown eyes....

was Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the love!! I am sorry for not updating often, I’ve just been busy.... but get ready for like four chapters in a row :)


	12. Chapter 12

Sam froze in place, his eyes staying on Celaena as she stumbled into the room. He forced himself to stay seated on the bed rather than jump up and embrace her. She needed time to process. And she might have moved on, he reminded himself. She might not even want him to be here.

She stared at him, taking in every aspect of his body and making sure he was uninjured. She finally let her eyes meet his, and he saw tears forming. He hated the pain he was causing her. He wished he could take away all of her pain and let her be happy, like she deserved. 

Celaena's mouth opened and closed, then opened again. Sam stayed silent, wanting to be completely sure she was at least slightly okay before speaking and explaining it all. If she didn't know about Arobynn's betrayal by now, he had a feeling that would break her even further.

So he waited. Sat still. Didn't move a muscle as Celaena backed into the wall and sank to the floor. Didn't make a sound as the tears started flowing freely down her cheeks. Only when she let out a broken whimper that sounded somewhat like his name did he move toward her, crouching down in front of her on the floor.

"You- Y," She clutched at her chest like she was trying to claw her heart out. "Sa- I don't.... How?" She managed to get the question out. 

Sam wanted to reach forward and grab her. Hold her tightly while she cried. But he didn't. "Breathe, Laena. Breathe."

She took in a couple deeper breaths and leaned forward. She reached out a hand hesitantly, like she was scared it would fall right through him. Sam stayed still, letting her reach him. Her hand landed on his right bicep, and he had to work to keep himself from moving forward to embrace her. 

"You're here," she whispered. "I thought I imagined....." She let her voice trail off, looking him up and down. "How?" 

Sam sighed out, moving his legs underneath him so he was seated in front of her. He took her hand, which was still holding his arm, and held it between his own. He studied her eyes. The tears were still falling, and she was shaking slightly, but her gaze was as intense as ever. She wanted answers first, before allowing herself to open up again. So he gave them to her.

Before

Arobynn chuckled. "I did it for her. I did it for you too. See, while you were brought here by Tern and Mullin, Celaena sat in that apartment thinking you were going for Farran. The next morning, I made sure I was the one who told her you had been killed. She likely wouldn't have believed anyone else. I don't doubt for a moment that she was holding on to some small sliver of hope that you were actually alive. So, I brought her here, to the room right next door to us actually!" Arobynn was fully smiling now, beginning to laugh while he explained the full extent of his plan to the assassin. 

"I showed her one of Farran's recent projects. His face was burned off completely, his fingers and toes bent and broken, his body torn and cut and bruised and burned. He was unrecognizable." Arobynn leaned in to look Sam directly in the eyes as he said, "Celaena didn't question it. She believed it was you, she believed she had failed you. And do you know where she is headed right now, Sam?"

"Endovier," he whispered so quietly, Sam prayed he had misheard. "The Salt Mines of Endovier."

"Why?" Sam spat, not knowing what else to say besides that. "How could you?!"

Arobynn stood up straight and brushed off an imaginary speck of dust from his shoulder. "I don't like sharing my belongings."

Now

Sam finished talking and waited. Celaena seemed to be processing the information, and he didn't want to rush her. They sat in silence for several agonizingly long minutes before she pulled her hand away from his and stood up. He didn't try to stop her as she strode out of the bedroom and into the main sitting room. 

Celaena paced in front of the pale sofa, her breathing rapid and shallow. She laced her fingers together and set them on top of her messy braid. She didn't turn to face Sam as he followed her out and sat down slowly on a small armchair on the opposite side of the room. He watched her pace, scared to know what she might be thinking; what she might be feeling.

She took in a shuddering breath and turned to him. "How did you get away from Arobynn?" How are you here?"

"Wesley helped me get out, and all I had to do to get in here was follow a maid inside and pretend I was a new hire." Short and simple seemed to be a better option than explaining his whole experience getting to the castle.

She took a couple deep breaths before turning and pacing again. She wasn't crying anymore, he noticed. "You're a healer than?" 

"Yes. I told them my name was Ben. No one questioned it," he replied. 

Celaena nodded, sitting down on the long sofa that sat facing Sam. They were silent again for a few minutes before Celaena looked up at him. He met her eyes and saw with a bit of relief that she looked happy. 

"I'm here, Celaena," he whispered. "I'm alive. We're alive."

With those words, tears began to fall from both of their eyes. Celaena leaned forward like she was about to stand up and go to him, when footsteps suddenly echoed throughout the room.

————

Chaol stood outside the assassins chambers, hesitating. He knew he should go in there and apologize, but something was stopping him. 

He sighed, shook his head, and opened the door, walking in without an invitation. He hadn't really thought through what he was going to say, but he figured a simple "I'm sorry for what I said earlier," would suffice. He stopped in his tracks as his eyes fell upon a brown-haired man, sitting in front of Celaena. He was crying. What the hell?

Celaena leapt up at the sound of his footsteps, and turned to face him. She was crying as well, but her eyes were red, like she had been crying for a while already. 

"What is going on here? Who are you?" he demanded, looking at the stranger rather than the broken face of the assassin. 

The stranger opened his mouth to respond, but Celaena beat him to it. "He's a healer. I had a headache and he came to assist me."

"It doesn't look-"

"He was just leaving, and so are you," she cut him off, giving him a withering glare. 

Chaol was tired, and did not want to get into another screaming match with Celaena, so he decided to let it go for tonight and ask again in the morning. Besides, the stranger was wearing the standard uniform of the healers. So what was a healer doing in an assassins chambers, crying?

Without a word to either of them, he turned on his heel and strode out of the room. But just before he reached the door, he heard the man mumble something. He turned back to look at them again. He was holding her hand gently, and she was staring up at him with a small smile on her face.

What the hell was going on?


	13. Chapter 13

Celaena opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. Her face slowly stretched into a giant grin as she replayed the events of last night. She couldn't care less that Chaol had walked in on them bawling their eyes out. She could only think about Sam.

It was a funny thing to think about. Last night, she had been shocked. The news of Sam being alive mixed with Arobynn's betrayal was enough to nearly break her. But this morning, she found she was happier than she had been since a long time before Endovier.

She slipped out of bed and called for a servant to draw her a bath, smiling widely the whole time.

————

An hour later, Chaol had barged into her rooms again, and was surprised to find her already awake. Neither spoke a word as they went down to the gardens and started their run. They continued to stay silent when they walked into the sparring room for regular training with the other competitors. 

Chaol could tell that she was in a much better mood than she had been last night, but she wasn't making an effort to talk about it, so he decided not to either. He knew this was the sort of thing he should punish. This couldn't be allowed, whatever it was, and he was the one who should stop it. But for some reason, he kept quiet.

Celaena left Chaol to stand along the wall with the other guards as she strode towards the targets and picked up a set of small daggers.

Celaena grabbed the hilt of one and threw it at the target, smiling as it hit the bulls-eye. She grabbed another and threw it. It landed a hair's breadth from the one she'd already embedded in the bulls-eye.

"You've got impressive aim," a voice came from her right. She turned to find Nox watching her. A quick glance down at the target end told her he was struggling with this exercise. None of his daggers had hit their mark. 

"Thanks," she replied. She waited for him to retrieve his daggers and come back to the throwing line before she gestured for him to throw one. He did, and it hit the left side of the target, just outside the second ring. Celaena cleared her throat.

"You're standing wrong," she said quietly so the other Champions wouldn't overhear. "And you're holding your wrist incorrectly."

Nox subtly turned to watch her as she took her stance. He studied for a moment, before copying her position. "Bend you knees slightly more. Shoulders back, loosen your wrist, and throw when you exhale." She demonstrated for him, and he huffed when her dagger hit the bulls-eye.

"Show me again," he said appreciatively. 

She did so, and struck the target right next to the previous dagger. Then she turned and threw with her left hand, smiling as the blade sank into the handle of the very first dagger. 

"Keep your wrists loose. It's all about how you snap it."

Nox obeyed, and exhaled a long breath as he threw another dagger at his target. It hit the inner circle. "Well that's a bit of an improvement," he chuckled.

They walked down and gathered their daggers. "You're from Perranth, right?" she asked. Perranth was Terrasen's second largest city, and the mention of her homeland still spiked a bolt of fear and guilt in her, even though she had been the one to bring it up. Why had she brought it up? She shouldn't have brought it up. 

She schooled her face into a polite expression as Nox nodded. "This is my first time out of Perranth, actually. You said you were from Fenharrow, correct?" 

"Yes, Bellhaven," she lied, "My father is a merchant."

"And what does he think about his daughter stealing jewels for a living?" 

She smiled wryly and hurled a dagger at her target. "He won't be inviting me home for a while, that's for sure."

Nox threw another dagger. "The bext time we pair off for lessons, find me, will you?"

"Why?" She reached for a dagger only to find she had already thrown all of hers. She turned to face him instead.

"Because," he said as he threw his last dagger, hitting the bulls-eye, "My bet's on you winning this whole damn thing."

————

"So?" Sorscha snuck up behind Sam and smiled brightly. "What happened? How did it go? She remembered who you were right?"

Sam chuckled. "Yes, she did remember who I was." 

"Aww you're smiling! It must've gone perfectly!!" Sorscha beamed up at him. She felt a certain sense of responsibility for her friend now, wanting to be able to see Sam, well... Ben, happy. And if the woman who would make him happy was a jewel thief competing in a dangerous tournament to become the King's lap dog, then so be it. She would do everything she could to get them together.

Sam just laughed again and began to gather his materials. He dropped them into a basket and turned to start his errands, when a sharp voice cut through the room. 

"I don't know who you think you are young man, but we already have our replacement. He came ages ago!" 

Sam knew instantly that they were talking about him. This could be bad. He smiled quickly at Sorscha and walked over to the owner of the voice. "Everything alright, Amithy?" he asked.

"Everything is not all right! This young man here claims to be the replacement healer, but you are already here as Tally's replacement Ben," she replied, giving the frightened young man a withering glare. 

Sam turned and surveyed him. He was small and timid looking, with mousy brown hair. He looked terrified, and he couldn't be any older than 13. He turned to face Amithy. "I'm sure this is all a misunderstanding. Maybe you accidentally sent out more than one request for a replacement healer? Accidents do happen on occasion, Miss. And besides, we could always use more hands. Why not let him stay and help out?" 

She studied Sam for a moment, thinking. "I suppose.... yes we could always.... Well, how would you like evenings off? You work so hard, Ben, and I'm sure our new helper would be honored to work your evening shifts while he gets accustomed to life in the palace." 

It was very obvious that the head healer was trying to flirt with Sam. She had been trying to catch his attention for the past couple of days now, and he had to work to keep the polite smile on his face. 

He nodded once. "Whatever you deem best, Amithy. Who better to decide these things than you?" He refrained from rolling his eyes at the cheesiness of the words that just came out of his mouth. 

Amithy however, turned a dark shade of crimson around the cheeks. "Yes- well. Of course," she smiled. "Follow me young man. And what was your name again?" 

Sorscha, who had listened to the whole conversation from the table over, moved to stand beside Sam as they watched them walk away. 

"Wow Ben. I'm impressed. Usually when she wants a guy, it lasts a week at most. She must really want you," she joked, stretching out the word 'really.'

"Sorscha!" 

They both laughed and picked up their baskets, moving towards the door to start their rounds. 

"So what are you gonna do with your evenings off? Any particular Lady or, I don't know, a thief perhaps, that you're going to visit?" She nudged him with her elbow, smiling at the look that crept onto his face. It was the same look he got every time Lady Lillian was brought up. To Sorscha, it was obvious how much he loved her. 

Sam just shook his head, smiling. "That's for me to know, and you to... Well I suppose you already know," he laughed, nudging her back. 

And he was going to do exactly that. He would go to her again tonight. He was going to hug her, and hold her, and kiss her, and finally be truly with her again.

He silently thanked whatever gods above had let them be reunited, and smiled brightly throughout the rest of his rounds.


	14. Chapter 14

The very same day, Sam finished his morning and afternoon rounds, before quickly walking the new healer through what he would have to do every evening. Sorscha assured Sam that she would help the new boy out for today so Sam could go to Celaena.

Which is exactly what he was on his way to do.

She had finished her training with the Captain of the Guard about two hours ago, but he wanted to be sure she had enough time to bathe and change before he went barging in. 

He rounded the corner, basket in hand, and walked up to her guards. "Good evening. The Lady Lillian has sent for a healer?" He tried to look as un-intimidating as possible, which was hard seeing as the tallest guard was about two inches shorter than him. 

The youngest among them cocked his head to the side and said, "I don't recall the Lady Lillian sending for a healer. Are you sure you were meant to come here and not to some other Lady?" 

"Oh yes, she put a request in this morning. She mentioned she was having frequent headaches, so I was sent to help find a proper remedy." Sam knew she had used to get occasional headaches after rough missions, and he silently prayed she had let something slip to one of them about it.

Sure enough, the guard standing closest to the door nodded and motioned for the others to let Sam into her rooms. Sam smiled politely at them all before slipping through and shutting the door behind him. For the guards sake, he called out perhaps a little louder than was necessary, "Lady Lillian, I have been sent to help you with your headaches. Would you like me to wait in the sitting room?"

Nearly five seconds after the last word left his mouth, she flew through the doorway and stopped suddenly, staring at him intently. He jerked his head backwards towards the door he had just come through. Luckily, she caught on and called back, "Yes please, thank you." She began moving towards the sitting room. "They really have been bothering me lately. Will you be making me a remedy, or is there a different option to relieve them?"

She shut the door as soon as he walked through it, and stood a few paces away watching him. With her voice no louder than a whisper, she mumbled, "I thought for a moment.... I had dreamed it. That you were still gone and I was finally going crazy."

His heart broke a little at her words. "I'm here. I promise. I'm real."

With a single tear flowing down her cheek, she suddenly leapt forward and threw her arms around him. He melted into the hug, and he could feel her doing the same. They stood there for several minutes, simply holding each other. Neither made an effort to move or to speak; they just held on to each other and cried. 

Eventually, they broke apart and made their way over to two chairs. He was dying to ask her one thing; he wanted to know what it was that she had gone through. But he knew she might not be ready to talk about it, and the last thing he wanted to do was push her too hard. 

"What's that look for?" she asked softly. He realized he had been staring at her.

He shook his head and began, "It's nothing. I only-"

"You want to know what I went through. When I was... There," she said with a half smile. It astonished him how well she could read him. He only wished she would let down her walls a little bit so he could read her just as well. 

"I don't want to force you to-"

She cut him off again. "No... I want to tell you. I need to, I think."

She took in a deep breath. 

"What do you want to know?"

"Your back.... I felt scars on your back when we hugged and— I mean..." he trailed off, not knowing how to phrase it properly. She stayed quiet and let him talk, even though she knew what he was going to ask. "I didn't mean to, but I could feel three of them. Big ones. When did you get those ones?"

She looked down to her hands and played with her sleeve, thinking for a moment before deciding to just tell the truth. She needed to see how he handled this truth before divulging the rest.

"I arrived in Endovier, and they dragged me into the center of the camp, and tied me between two whipping posts. I received twenty-one lashes." She looked up at him and studied his face. He was trying to hide his pain from her and she hated it. But she kept talking. 

"That was before I had befriended any of the other slaves. I spent that first night thinking I wouldn't make it to the morning. Over my time there, each whipping would cut into those three a bit deeper since they hadn't properly healed, as well as create new cuts."

"No one helped you?" he asked quietly.

She gave him another small half smile. "A young woman slipped me a tin of salve while we were in line for breakfast the morning after," she trailed off, letting her voice drop. "I never got to thank her."

He gave her a questioning gaze.

She clenched her hands into fists as tears began to fall from her face again. She was shocked at how much she had cried since she learned of Sam being alive. "Later that same day, four overseers raped and killed her."

"No one ever...." he began softly, but couldn't form the words.

Luckily, she knew what he was getting at, and she gave him a small bitter smile. "They were afraid of me from the beginning. None of them dared to come too close."

They held eye contact for a few moments of silence, before Sam let out a broken whisper. "Can I see?"

She didn't hesitate. She stood and grabbed his hand, leading him into her bedroom. For some reason, she wanted to share this part of herself with him. She supposed it was easier for her than the words would be. More simple, in a way. But at the same time.... absolutely terrifying.

She turned around, letting him shut the door slowly. With a deep breath, she began removing her dress, pulling out all the lace strings that held the bodice in place. When she had finished unlacing, she pulled her arms out and let the top hang down over the skirt so she was bare from the waist up. 

She silently thanked herself for deciding to skip the corset that evening, seeing as she hadn't had any plans to leave her room, let alone see anyone for the remainder of the day. A sharp intake of breath pulled her out of her thoughts and back into the moment.

Sam failed to stifle his gasp when he saw the top of her dress fall and reveal her back. She stood completely still, letting him look and process what he was seeing. There was barely any smooth skin left; most was torn up and left in craters and ridges running up and down, as well as left to right. It was all scar tissue. The main thing he focused on though, was the three sharp, thick lines that ran across her back, going all the way from in between her shoulder blades, down to the small of her back. The tops of these three were the smoothest part of her back, only because of how much deeper they were than the others. 

He couldn't bare to look any longer. 

Sam slowly moved toward her, laying a gentle hand on the base of her hip, not touching any of the bare skin. He thought that for now, it was probably best to take small steps: she had let him see her scars, next time maybe he would touch them. He wanted to feel the uneven expanse of skin, feel what they had done to her so he knew exactly what he would do to them before he killed them. 

But he didn't want to get ahead of himself. 

He waited as she silently slipped her dress back on, not bothering to lace it back up. She walked over to her bed and sat down, patting the space next to her. He sat down beside her and softly said, "I want to know everything. Maybe not today, but—"

Celaena cut him off before he could finish. She didn't really know why she was suddenly dying to tell him everything, but the words left her mouth anyways. "Sam. I need to. Please let me tell you." 

She couldn't back out now. And so, she began.

She started with the horrid two weeks in the wagon when she was first captured. 

Then, she told him about the pit; the awful black pit they had thrown her in when she misbehaved. 

That led to the day she snapped. The day she broke. She wouldn't tell him why, just that she had done it. He didn't ask any more questions, so she kept going. It was all spilling out of her now, and she was finding it hard to stop talking. 

She didn't want to stop talking.

So she told him about how she was chained to the other slaves, how they had cut off her hair at the start and thrown a pickaxe in her hands; how they had expected her to know what she was doing, then punished her when she messed up. 

She told him about the beatings and whippings she received for no reason at all, other than the overseers were bored. 

But seeing the distant look of agony in his eyes, she changed courses. She began to tell him about the kindness of the other slaves. How a few of the Eyllwe women had taught her bits of their language and culture.

How over time, as more and more Eyllwe people had come and gone, she had learned the language entirely.

She told him how some of the older ones who had been there the longest, longest being only a couple months, had helped to heal her wounds in the night. 

Then she turned back to the brutality of it all, suddenly not being able to help herself from speaking of the horrors.

She told him about how she had watched all those kind souls die at either the hands of a guard or overseer, sometimes even their own hands, or simply from poor health. 

She told him about the few times she had seen another slave kill their friend as a merciful means to an end, and how those slaves had been strung up to die a slow and painful death as a reminder of who was in charge.

She let it all spill from her mouth in a hushed tone, watching his face carefully in case it became too much for him. She didn't want to scare him away with the horrors that she had seen in that death camp, even though she was finding it harder and harder to stop herself from telling him every single detail.

The whole time, he sat silently, listening intently to every word that tumbled from her mouth. When she stopped speaking, an entire hour had passed. They both collectively remembered the lie they had told in order to get alone time together.

But when Sam walked out of her chambers and back to his own room in the servants quarters, Celaena had stopped crying. She knew he couldn't stay, she had excepted it. She wasn't saddened by his leaving. 

She wasn't happy either, though, that she had finally let some weight off of her load and told someone about her year of hell. 

She just felt so terribly empty. 

  
Despite this, she stood up and wandered out into the game room. She didn't realize she had had a specific destination in mind until she got there: the grand pianoforte that was sitting along the back wall. 

She had been good once— perhaps better than good. Arobynn had loved it when she played.... No, she couldn't think of her former master right now. His betrayal would have to wait. She was feeling too many other things to even try to think about him. 

Gingerly, with one hand, she tapped out a simple, slow melody on the lower keys. It left a deep sound, full of sorrow and anger. The music hit her so hard, she nearly forgot how to breathe.

Bringing both hands up to the keys, she played a chord; one that belonged to a piece Sam had once given to her. It had been played at a concert they had attended, and he had seen how transfixed she was throughout it. He had somehow managed to retrieve the sheet music, and gave it to her. 

She pushed down on the pedal, and was gone instantly.

The notes burst from her fingers, staggering at first, but quickly remembering as the emotion in the music took over. She was surprised that she had not forgotten, but she supposed she had played it so many times that it was muscle memory, just like how she could swing a blade the same now as she could before Endovier. Some things are not easily forgotten, she figured.

But all her thoughts and feelings were forgotten then, as the music swelled around her, alive and breathing. She played and played as the sound forgave and saved her from herself, all in one glorious song.  



	15. Chapter 15

Dorian stood transfixed in the door way. Celaena had been playing for quite a while now, her back facing him. She was wrapped up in the music, in her own little world, and hadn't heard him knock or enter the room. 

He had come down to her chambers with more.... risqué intentions after their flirtatious conversation the previous day while in the sparring rooms with Princess Nehemia.

But all those thoughts had left his mind the moment he heard the music.

It was funny, if not a little strange, to him; that a ruthless and conniving assassin such as Celaena could create such a beautiful thing. She played with so much grace and emotion, that Dorian found it hard to believe it was Celaena sitting there, and not a professional pianist. This was music that should be performed in grande theaters, not an assassins game room. 

He realized he had been standing in the doorway watching her for a bit too long, so he slowly made his way across the room. He quietly sat in a chair that was almost directly to her left side and continued to observe her.

Her hands flew across the keys, barely pausing on a chord before they popped up and pressed down on new keys to string together an enchanting melody. The music swelled around them both as Dorian rose and slowly moved over to sit down on the bench beside her.   
"You play beau--"

Her fingers slipped and let out a loud clanking noise, and in the blink of an eye she was halfway to the rack of cue sticks next to the billiards table when she beheld him. One look at her face and he knew she had been crying. "What are you doing here?" She glanced to the door.

"Chaol isn't with me," he said with a quick smile. "If that's what you're wondering. I apologize if I interrupted." He marveled at her discomfort as her face burned red. It, like the music, seemed far too human an emotion for Adarlan's Assassin. Had she really been so caught up in her playing that she hadn't noticed him?

"It's fine." She began to walk over to one of the chairs, but he stood and quickly blocked her path. She was surprisingly of average height, and he found himself looking down at her. "What are you doing here?" she repeated.

He gave her a roguish smile. "Don't you remember? We decided to meet here... yesterday, I believe." 

She crossed her arms. "I thought it was a joke."

"I'm the Crown Prince of Adarlan. I never joke." He moved out of her way and sat down, leaning back on the sofa and draping his arm over the back of it.

"Are you even allowed to be in here?" she asked, sitting down across from him. She was much more rigid than the Prince, which he found funny as well. Shouldn't the roles be reversed in this scenario? 

"Allowed? Again: I'm a prince. I can do what I like."

"Yes, but I'm Adarlan's Assassin."

He wouldn't be intimidated. Even if she could grab one of those billiards cues and run him through with it in a matter of seconds. "From your playing, it sure seems like you're a great deal more than that."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," he said, forcing himself to stay grounded in the moment and not get lost in her strange, lovely eyes, "I don't think anyone who plays like that can just be a criminal." He grinned at her frown. "It seems like you have a soul, anyways."

"Of course I have a soul. Everyone has a soul."

She was still red in the face. Did he make her that uncomfortable? This time he fought his grin. He was enjoying this probably a bit too much. What could he say? It was fun.  
"How'd you like the books?"

Several days earlier, she had sent a letter to him, asking for permission to peruse the Royal Library. Naturally, he had responded by sending her a stack of his personal favorites.

"They were.... well they were wonderful, actually."

"I'm glad." Their eyes met again, and she retreated further back into her chair. At this point, he would've thought he himself was the assassin! "How are you and my good friend the Captain getting along?" Of course, it was a totally innocent question. Nothing wrong with being curious, he thought.

She shrugged, and he tried not to read to far into the gesture. "Fine. I think he hates me a bit, but can you really blame him? I'm not that surprised."

"Why do you think he hates you?" For some reason, he found himself hoping this was the truth.

"Because I'm an assassin, and he's the Captain of the Guard. He's forced to belittle himself by minding the King's would-be Champion."

"Do you wish it were otherwise?" That question was not quite as innocent. He flashed her a quick, lazy grin.

She leaned forward a bit, coming closer to him. His heart jumped a beat. "Well, who wants to be hated? Though I'd rather be hated than invisible. But I suppose it makes no difference." She wasn't convincing.

"You're lonely?" he couldn't stop himself before the question came tumbling out.

"Lonely?" She shook her head. "No. I can survive well enough on my own. If given proper reading material, that is."

He looked at the piano, trying hard not to think about where she had been only weeks before. Had she felt loneliness, among other things, when she had been there? There certainly weren't books in Endovier. Once again, Celaena surprised him. 

She studied his face. "What would you have me do instead, then? I'd rather not be seen as one of your lovers." She laughed now, visibly more relaxed than she had been. 

"And what's wrong with that?"

"I'm already notorious for being an assassin. I don't particularly feel like being notorious for sharing your bed."

He choked, but she continued on. "Would you like to know why, or is it enough for me to say that I don't take jewels and books and trinkets as payment for my affections?"

He snarled. "I'm not going to debate morality with an assassin. You kill people for money, you know."

"You may leave now."

"You're dismissing me?" He didn't know whether to laugh or yell.

"Shall I summon Chaol and see what he thinks?" She crossed her arms again, knowing she had won. Perhaps she had also realized there was fun to be had in riling him, too.

"Why should I be thrown from your rooms for telling the truth? You essentially just called me a whoremonger." He hadn't had this much fun in ages. 

When she didn't respond he continued. "Tell me about your life-- how you learned to play the pianoforte so masterfully. And what was that piece? It sounded so enchanting; were you thinking of a secret lover?" He winked.

Even though she knew it had been a teasing question meant to jibe at her, her heart skipped a beat. Sam had just been here before Dorian. What if they had been caught? What would've happened to Sam? What would've happened to her? Did Dorian know about him? 

At the fall of her face, Dorian paused. He hadn't been serious when he had said it, but the look on her face... 

"Is there.... A secret lover?" His heart fell. He didn't know why.

She stayed quiet. He lowered his gaze and couldn't bring himself to look back up at her. Until a small, "Why do you care?"

His gaze snapped up to meet hers.

"I'm nothing more than an adventure to you."

"I don't think you're an adventure," he muttered.

"Oh? The castle offers so much excitement that the presence of Adarlan's Assassin is nothing unusual? Nothing would entice a young prince who's been confined to a court all his life? And what does this competition suggest, for that matter? I'm already at your father's disposal. I won't become his son's jester too."

It was his turn to blush. Had he ever been scolded like this before? His parents and tutors perhaps, but certainly not a young woman. "Don't you know who you're talking to?" His voice came out smaller than he wanted.

"My dear prince," she drawled, examining her nails, "You're in my rooms. Alone. The hallway door is very far away. I can say whatever I wish."

His mind couldn't help but going back to the topic of her secret lover. Was there really one, or was she lying? She watched him carefully with her piercing blue eyes. Did she know what he might have wanted to do with her if she wasn't an assassin?

"I'll go," he said at last, stopping himself from wondering if he could actually risk it-- risk his father's and Chaol's wrath, and what might happen if he decided to damn the consequences. But if she did have someone already, who was it? Was it serious enough to stop her from even sparing a thought for him?

He stood up. "Good night, Sardothian." He looked around her rooms and let out a slow breath. "Tell me something before I leave: this mystery lover of yours.... he doesn't live in the castle does he?" 

Please don't be Chaol, he prayed to whoever was listening.

He knew instantly that he had no chance with her whatsoever, when a small, love-stricken smile spread onto her face. He knew that smile. He used to wear that smile, a long time ago, before his lover had left him for another. 

"Good night, Dorian."

"I didn't mean to--"

She waved him off, looking toward the unlit fireplace. Understanding his dismissal, he strode to the door, each footstep sounding in the now silent room. He was almost to the threshold when he paused and looked back. Her small smile remained, and she looked so in love when he studied her face. It pained him slightly that she wasn't thinking about him when she looked like that. Without being able to stop himself, he asked softly, "What's his name?"

Her smile grew slightly pained. Slightly sad. After a moment, she whispered, "Sam."

He nodded and slowly turned back to the door, not yet wanting to leave, but also knowing he should go. 

"I thought he was dead."

He didn't turn around this time, he just stood in place and listened. This felt private-- like he wasn't meant to hear it. 

But she kept speaking. "For thirteen months. I thought he was dead."

That meant... She had believed he was dead for the entirety of Endovier. How had she been strong enough to survive? How had she pushed through? A seventeen year old girl, led for whatever reasons to believe her lover was dead, had gone to a death camp. And survived.

At seventeen, he had been in the midst of courting a girl-- one he had wanted to spend forever with. But she left him for a commoner. And he had thought nothing would ever hurt as much as he had in those weeks after. 

"But he's alive. He's here." He could hear the smile in her voice. Gods above, she'd survived Endovier. She'd been whipped and starving and cold and alone, and yet could still laugh. "He's here," she repeated.

With those words he knew. She loved him. He had no chance at all, and it would be better for them both if he found a way to let his feelings go. So he made a vow, right then and there, to try and let her go.

"I'm sorry." It was a vague apology, and he was hoping she would know what he meant.

She did. And she replied simply, "It's not your fault, what I went through. And, Dorian? You are not your father."

She knew without being able to see his face, that a bitter, but genuine smile was on his face. But all he said was, "Good luck at the Test tomorrow."

Right. The Test. She had been so caught up in everything, she had managed to forget about the Test completely. 

She stayed quiet as he finally left the room. In his mind, her beautiful, enchanting music continued to play on a loop. He couldn't banish the heart-wrenching melody that almost made him want to fall to the floor and weep. And even as he read a book long into the night, even when he finally fell asleep; the music didn't stop.


	16. Chapter 16

Celaena sighed and collapsed on her bed. Nearly an hour earlier, another Test had taken place. Their task had been to scale the side of the castle using one tool of their choosing as well as a short length of rope. She had chosen a jar of tar to dip her hands into, and it had worked fairly well. Until Nox was sabotaged by another contestant and almost fell to his death. She had dove across the castle wall and down several precious feet to grab him before he plummeted. And while she hadn't come in last, she had come very close. However, a man named Ned Clement was the fourth to fall and die, and he was considered the eliminated champion; this meant she and Nox both continued on. 

Cain had, of course, come in first. He seemed to be growing both in size and muscle much too rapidly than should be possible. It infuriated her to no end that she couldn't figure out what he was doing to stay ahead of the others. It seemed impossible that he was able to have enough strength to haul his own body weight all the way up the castle, but he had done it regardless, and Chaol had snapped at her for being curious about Cain, so she shut up about it for the time being.

She wasn't reassured about anything after this Test though. She couldn't help thinking about the murder of the Eye Eater, or thinking about all of the other contestants who had been killed during the various Tests. This most recent had caused more deaths than ever before in a Test; four contestants had fallen to their deaths. She figured she should be grateful she had come in second-to-last place instead of falling to her death, but she was still a little sour. Her earlier conversation with Chaol hadn't helped either.

"Cheer up," he had said, nudging her arm slightly as they walked. "Eighteenth place is fine. At least Nox placed behind you."

Celaena had said nothing in return, so he continued talking about how the Test would've gone better if she hadn't been foolish enough to try and save Nox. She had snapped at him for saying this, but he continued on. In his eyes, daring rescues weren't exactly in a jewel thief's repertoire. 

"Wasn't losing gracefully a part of your training?" Chaol had asked in an attempt to diffuse the arguement, even though arguing was all they seemed to do now.

"No," she had responded bitterly. "Arobynn always told me second place was just a nice title for the first loser. I've not been very fond of losing since." How strange it was to think about her former master. Did he know of what she was in the middle of? Did he care anymore? Sam had told her that Arobynn had wanted her captured because he was too fond of her to let her go, but she didn't want to let herself accept that twisted version of his thoughts as reality.

"Arobynn Hamel?" Chaol had asked, "The King of the Assassins?"

She had nodded shortly. "You do know he was my former master, don't you?" 

"I'd forgotten," Chaol had responded.

She thought about Arobynn then. Chaol had asked about her training, and she had told him. He had been outraged when she told him she had learned at fourteen that Arobynn expected her to pay him back for everything he had done for her. 

It was then that Philippa had brought them the news that another Champion had been found dead, mutilated and dismembered outside of the eastern servant stairwell. Chaol rushed off and left her alone with a vague promise to see her in the morning for their daily run through the gardens. With only nine weeks left before the final duel, the four final spots were starting to look rather precious. And with now only eighteen contestants...

Cain would be among the final four of course, but who would make up the final three? She had always been so sure she'd make it. Now, she wasn't so sure anymore.

After Chaol left, it had taken two baths and an entire bar of sweet smelling soap to get rid of the tar covering her aching hands and feet. Then she had gone through the strains of being shoved into a smooth emerald-blue dress that Philippa had bought earlier in the week.

Of course, it had also taken about an hour of "Ben" cleaning and binding her wounds on each. In reality, she and Sam had spent this entire time sharing small conversations and kisses. Her wounds were merely an afterthought. 

He had had to leave to finish work, but not before giving her a promise to see her again that evening. It made her feel like what she imagined a schoolgirl with a crush might feel like. Especially with all the sneaking around and stolen kisses they shared. It made her face grow warm when she thought about it.

She sat up on the bed. It was getting later in the day. Around dinnertime. She found she wasn't hungry, so she started to wander around her bedroom. Her eyes fell on the tapestry-covered wall across the room. The tapestry was odd, old, and not very carefully preserved. Images of forest animals amongst drooping trees dotted the large expanse. A woman- the only human in the tapestry- stood near the floor.

She was life-sized and remarkably beautiful. Her face was young, despite the shimmering silver hair that flowed down next to her white gown. The dress was so smooth, and it almost seemed to sway--

Celaena froze. Did the tapestry just sway slightly? She glanced at the window, but it was shut firmly. She focused on the tapestry again, and yes, it was moving outwards just barely. 

Her skin tingled. She lit a candle and moved to the wall. She reached for the end of the fabric and lifted it up. There was only stone.

She pushed back the heavy folds and made her way along the wall. When the fabric became too heavy to hold, she tucked it behind a chest to keep it aloft. She kept going slowly until she noticed a vertical groove, different from the rest, that ran down the face of the wall. And then another one, not four feet from it. They emerged from the floor, and just above Celaena's head they met in a--

It is a door. She smiled.

She positioned her feet on the floor and leaned her shoulder into the stone. It gave a little, and her heart jumped. She pushed again, the candle flickering in her hand now being the only source of light in the dimming room. The door groaned as she shoved it open. Then it swung open.

A dark passageway loomed before her.

A breeze blew into the black depths, pulling strands of her hair into her face. A shiver ran down her spine. Even though it was, for some reason, blowing into the passageway from behind her, it felt more like she was being pulled in than pushed in. The breeze seemed to be wrapping itself around her and softly pulling her closer to the open door. 

She took a step into the dark passage.

And then turned around and walked back into her room. If she was going to explore, she would need proper provisions. While she might be used to such darkness, she wasn't foolish enough to trust it. 

Moving through the room, she gathered two balls of yarn from Philippa's sewing basket, along with three sticks of chalk and a small makeshift knife she had fashioned from hair pins and a bar of soap. Since she wasn't allowed weapons, she figured she would have to make due with this. 

And again, she stood before the passage. It was terribly dark, and it seemed to yet again be beckoning her forward. 

She pulled a heavy armchair into the doorway. It wouldn't do to have it slam shut on her and leave her trapped forever. She tied the end of one of the balls of string to the chair, knotting it five times, and held the ball in her spare hand. If she got lost, this would lead her back. 

With a deep exhale, she muttered, "Please don't be an abandoned servants' passage. Please don't be an abandoned servants' passage."

Striding into the darkness, she found it to be very cold, but very dry. After a couple of feet, a long staircase that descended far beyond the light of her candle could reach came into view. She tensed as she stepped down onto the first step, waiting for a single sound that would send her springing back to her rooms. But it was silent. Silent and dead and completely forgotten. 

Celaena held the candle aloft, and she continued down the steps. The skirts of her dress trailed behind her, leaving a clean wake on the dust covered stairs. She scanned the walls as she descended, not quite sure what she was looking for. 

The bottom of the stairs soon appeared, and she cane to a halt before three equally dark and imposing portals. Where was she? It was difficult to imagine such a space could be forgotten in a castle so filled with people, but--

The ground was covered with dust. Not even a hint of a footprint. 

Thinking for a brief moment of a story Dorian had loaned her to read, she hesitated and raised the candle as high as she could. She scanned the arches above the passageways, looking for any inscriptions regarding the certain death that would meet her if she walked beneath a specific arch. 

Seeing nothing, she moved forward through the doorway in the middle, only because it was closest. After a few minutes of walking down the hallway and a second set if stairs, the ball of yarn in her hand became nothing more than a small lump of string. She set the candle down and tied the end of her second ball to the first. Perhaps she should've taken the entire basket. Well, at least she still had the chalk.

The passageway became very damp and even colder when she reached the bottom of this staircase. There were many archways and new passages now, but she continued straight.

After descending six sets of stairs, the stone became slick with water and whatever fungus had grown over the centuries. She would have considered turning around if she had not heard the faint sound that arose from the silence. 

Running water. Slow-moving. In fact, as she walked, the passage became lighter. It was not the yellow-orangey glow of a candle, but rather the smooth, white light of the outdoors-- of the moon. 

Her yarn had run out a couple minutes ago, which was part of the reason she had stayed on the same path going straight. She knew where she was though-- rather, she didn't dare to hope that it was what she believed it to be. She hurried along, slipping twice, before an archway appeared. And beyond it...

Celaena stared at the sewer that ran past, flowing straight out of the castle. It smelled unpleasant, to say the least. 

She stood along the side, examining the open gate that led to a wide stream that undoubtedly emptied into the sea or the Avery river. There were no guards, and no locks, save for the iron fence that hovered over the surface, raised just enough to allow trash to pass through. 

Four little boats were tied to either bank, and there were several more doors, wooden and iron, that led to this exit. It was probably built as an escape root for the king in case of emergency, but based on the rotting boats, she figured it had been forgotten about centuries ago.

She strode over to the iron fence and put her hand through one of the gaps. Her breath was visible in the chilled autumn air as she breathed out, and the iron bit into her palm as she held onto it. She could see the shadow of trees beyond the stream. And she could just barely see the sea. It was so dim, she thought her eyes might be playing tricks on her at first, but then she smelled a whiff of it. The moist, salty smell of the sea was relaxing as she inhaled. 

Where were the guards? She turned back to the inside of the escape tunnel and looked around on the ground until she saw a small chunk of stone. She turned back to the outside and hurled the stone through the gate and into the stream. Flattening as best as she could against the curved wall, she waited. But the splash had faded back into silence. No shifting of armor, no muttering or cursing of guards. She studied the other side. There was a small lever, just out of reach of her arm through the iron. 

Setting her things down behind her, she tentatively pulled upwards on the iron bars. And it moved.

Only slightly, then it stuck and stopped once again. It would be so easy to raise this gate, she thought. One hard tug and it would be out of her way. She felt reckless-- reckless and wild. She could leave; she could hop in a boat and disappear into the night. 

The moon was almost blindingly bright as she gazed out at the ocean in the distance. She knew that she could easily escape, and that it would be foolish to do so. The king would find her somehow. And Chaol would be disgraced and relieved of his position as Captain of the Guard. And Princess Nehemia would be left alone with moronic company. And of course, she couldn't leave....

Oh gods. Sam.

Celaena turned on her heel and started to run towards her rooms, forgetting her chalk and candle at the gate. She left the cylindric sewer tunnel and bolted up the stairs.

How could she have forgotten his promise to visit her tonight? 

Running up each set of stairs as fast as she could, trying hard not to let the looming darkness bother her, she came closer and closer to her rooms. 

She paused at the bottom of the last set of stairs and tried to catch her breath. The cold air was not helping in any way, but she started moving up the steps regardless. She reached the top and ran the last couple feet into her bedroom, ready to swing the door shut and cover it with the tapestry once again.

But instead, she ran right out of the darkness, and right into someone's chest, causing her to fall backwards and land on the cold stone of the passageway behind her.


	17. Chapter 17

For a few moments, they stayed silent. Celaena stayed frozen on the ground, staring up at Sam as he stood in shock. His eyes moved from her to the dark passageway she was sitting in. She noticed a hint of fear flash across his face, but she couldn't place what caused it.

"Celaena what-"

"Sam, listen-"

They spoke at the same time before abruptly returning to silence. After a few long moments, Sam leaned forward and offered a hand, which she took gratefully. When they were both standing, Celaena sighed and gestured for him to help her pull the tapestry down. She reached behind her and pulled the stone door shut, while he gathered the tapestry from behind the chest and let it fall to cover the wall again. 

For good measure, Celaena shoved the chest right in front of where the young woman stood, covering the hidden door as well. She didn't really want anyone coming into her rooms through the passageway, and she figured a heavy wooden chest blocking the door would give her enough time to run out and alert someone, or at the very least it would give her enough time to grab a weapon of some sort.

When her room had been returned to normal, they stood in silence yet again. Sam was too confused to ask questions, and Celaena was too busy mentally kicking herself for forgetting he was coming here tonight.

The silence was finally broken when Sam let out a quiet, "...What?"

With that small word, everything came tumbling out. Sam sat down on her bed silently while she talked in a hushed, but excited whisper.

When she had finished, he furrowed his brows and thought for a moment. "That sounds...." he trailed off. 

"Thrilling," she smiled as she flopped backwards onto her bed. For a moment, as Sam studied her face, she looked so carefree and wild. He wished that she could be this way all the time; instead of being burdened with all of the horrors the gods have thrown at her. 

Which is why he stayed silent. He didn't think it was thrilling. He thought it was dangerous. She was playing with fire, and he didn't want to see her get hurt again.

"Are you alright?" She had sat up and put a hand on his arm to draw him out of his thoughts. He realized that he had been staring at the tapestry for a bit too long.

"Celaena, I don't-"

"I know, I know," she cut him off before he could finish. "You think it's reckless. You probably think it's too dangerous to explore any more of it. You want me to stop."

"You took the words right out of my mouth," he said.

She sighed and laid back down. "It was just-" she started before sighing again. 

"It was an escape," Sam finished for her.

She sat up quickly. "I wasn't going to escape. I promise. I thought about it, of course. But I-"

Sam let a soft smile grow on his face before he cut her off. "I meant, it was something new. Something you could have to yourself that wasn't involving this whole Tournament. That's all."

"Oh. Right," she mumbled.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, both staring at the tapestry covered wall that Celaena had emerged from.

Sam sighed and turned to her, grabbing her hands and holding them tightly in his. "I know I can't stop you from going back in there. You'll find a way to do it regardless of what I say. I just...." he trailed off, not sure how to continue.

Celaena squeezed his hands, waiting for him to continue. She knew he needed to say whatever it was he was trying to say, and she figured interrupting every time he tried to get the words out was not a good way to go. 

"I just want you to be careful," he finished.

That's it? 

She shook her her head and smiled at him. She had honestly expected a lecture from him about safety and keeping a low profile so no one would catch her and send her back to Endovier. Or something like that.

"What?" Sam glared, reading her expression wrong.

"Nothing. I will be careful," she said. "I promise." 

That seemed to be good enough for him, seeing as his expression switched almost instantaneously to a small, almost suggestive, smile. "You know, Celaena, tomorrow is an important day."

This stumped her. Tomorrow?

"What's.... tomorrow?" She asked cautiously. The last thing she wanted was to have forgotten an important date.

"What's tomorrow? Celaena, don't tell me you forgot?" His smile widened into a smirk and he leaned forward so their faces were a mere inches apart.

"I- Haven't," she replied haughtily, leaning away to cross her arms. 

Sam just chuckled and reached forward to grab her by the biceps and pull her close to him again. His lips brushed against hers softly, a whisper of a kiss. A question. It was slow and delicate, and he stayed there just long enough for her to inhale quietly, to feel the warmth of his skin against her face, still chilled from the autumn air. 

It reminded her of how he used to kiss her. Before. Like they had all the time in the world.

This time around, they both knew. They knew they didn't. But he still kissed her like they did. It made butterflies swarm in her stomach.

She uncrossed her arms and slid them around the back of his neck. His warm hands slowly fell down her arms and moved to rest at the base of her hips. Their mouths moved in sync, deepening the kiss with a sigh of content from each of them. Neither made any move to speed up the pace of their slow, almost lazy kiss. It was a comfort to them both, to be able to kiss as if everything were normal, when they knew they were far from it. 

But why should they act as if they were running out of time, when they had just gotten each other back?

Sam ran his finger along the seam of her deep blue gown, his other hand starting to draw small, gentle circles on her hip. Her left hand reached into his short hair and made soft scratches with her fingernails that pulled a deep moan out of his mouth. 

All too quickly, Celaena pulled away, her hands falling to sit gently on his leg. Sam's hands continued to draw patterns on her back and hips. He knew she would still need time to adjust to his being here, and he was willing to wait. He was willing to go slower, so she wouldn't be overwhelmed with everything. 

But all she said was, "This dress is hurting my ribcage."

Sam chuckled and leaned in to kiss her softly, watching her eyes flutter closed again before replying, "Would you like to change into something more comfortable?"

She nodded, not opening her eyes, and pulled him back into the kiss. They stayed there for minutes. Or maybe it was hours. Neither could know for certain. 

But eventually, they both made their way out of most of their clothing. Celaena's dress laying in a pile on the floor, while Sam's simple uniform was folded neatly on a nearby chair. When they were both in nothing but their underthings, they returned to the bed and climbed into the silky sheets. Sam laid on his back and opened his arms to her. She laid to his side and smiled as his arms enveloped her body. Her arm draped across his chest, and she began to draw small, soothing circles along his shoulder. 

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, murmuring, "I love you," once, before pulling her closer and slipping into a peaceful looking sleep. 

Celaena lifted her head off of his shoulder and watched him. She studied his face, his mouth, his jawline, his every feature. How could she possibly be so lucky? 

She felt his muscles tighten on her waist as he shifted in his sleep. Laying here with him, she felt safe. That feeling was almost indescribable. Because in the moment, the two of them sharing body heat, holding each other as close as physically possible, there wasn't a single place she would rather be. As he held her close to his heart, Celaena realized just how deep her love for him goes; how deep she feels it within her.

She softly laid her head back down onto his shoulder and tightened her grip around his body. "I love you," She whispered, before shutting her eyes and drifting off into a not quite as peaceful sleep.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: violence, torture  
> Skip to the ———— if you do not want to read it

Celaena gaped at the ground. She knew these sharp rocks– knew how they cut into the soles of her feet, how they so easily cut into her knees as she was thrown to the ground. The rocks stretch on for miles, rising into jagged, fang-like mountains that look as if they could pierce the sky, as they do her skin. She looked down and touched the dirty rags that did nothing to protect her from the cold, or even cover her body properly. Her stomach rose in her throat. What had happened?

She pivoted, shackles clanking, as she took in the desolate waste that surrounded her.

Endovier.

She remembered know. She had failed, failed and been sent back here. She had been so close to freedom, so close to being with–

A bloodcurdling scream cut sharply into her thoughts. Her head whipped forward, mouth falling agape as she saw what was happening in front of her. She remembered again.

They had been caught. Sam. They had both been sent here. Together. 

His arms were tied to two of the various whipping poles on the grounds, and he screamed as the whip cracked against his raw, bloody back. He was held up by his wrists, his feet not able to support him. 

The whip creaked as it was raised again. 

This time she screamed, a terrible, pain filled scream as the whip fell, slicing into bone, reverberating through his body so much that she could feel it. Feel the sting, the agony it inflicted that made you want to just die–

"That's right," a deep voice said from behind her. She felt hands. Rough, large hands, grabbing her body. "You're next."

Then she was in his place; tied between the posts. 

No. 

Where was he? What did they do to him? Was he–

She screamed as a sudden, excruciating pain shot down her back, barely heralded by the crack of the whip. Her legs gave out from under her, and the bonds holding her wrists in place jerked as she let herself hang limp from them. 

Tears stung her eyes. This was their future. They would die here. She couldn't live through this again. She couldn't.

The whip fell again, making every nerve and tendon in her body burn and explode in utter agony. 

And again, it fell. 

And again. 

She couldn't take it. She would die here.

————

"CELAENA!" 

Her eyes flew open. She panted. Her body was covered in sweat, and she could still feel the familiar ache in her body. 

"Breathe..." a voice said. Sam's voice. Sam.

She sat up. Where was she?

"It was a dream, Laena," he murmured, tracing gentle, soothing circles along her spine, somehow knowing exactly what she had dreamt about. "Just a dream. Breathe, Celaena."

Rifthold. She was in Rifthold. In the castle; the stone one, not the glass. 

She felt dizzy, nauseated, too small and too large all at once. She felt cold, despite the sweat that gleamed on her skin. It suddenly felt an awful lot like blood covering her.

A sudden scent of lavender filled her nostrils, and she leaned into it. Into Sam. In, and out. She focused on her breathing; on the soothing circles he was tracing along her spine.

They sat like this for several minutes, just breathing together. Holding each other, in a much different way than last night. 

"I was being whipped," she choked out. "You were..." 

She couldn't bring herself to finish, but Sam knew what she was insinuating. His breath caught. 

"What time is it?" She shook her head in a feeble attempt to get rid of the memory-dream still stuck in her mind. 

"It's not quite dawn," he began. "Celaena...." he trailed off.

She let out a long shuddering breath and made her way to stand. 

"Stop," he whispered, almost too quiet for her to hear. But she stopped and turned to him. "Don't pretend you're alright. I know you aren't. Please, Celaena," he grabbed her hands and pleaded quietly, "don't shut me out. If you aren't ready to talk about it, then we don't have to. But I am here. You can talk to me. I want to help you however I can. But I can't do that if you pretend you're fine every time something like this happens." 

She hadn't noticed she was crying until he finished talking and raised a hand to wipe the tears from her cheeks. She was dangerously close to breaking, she could feel it. But he was here. Sam was here. 

So she let herself crack.

And he held her while she sobbed, murmuring soft words in her ear and rubbing gentle patterns into her skin. They stayed like this until the sun had started to rise, and the air had warmed slightly. They stayed until she had finished crying; he held her until the tears had dried on her face. 

They stayed until they heard a knock on the door.


	19. Chapter 19

Both Celaena's and Sam's eyes flew open.

They had been laying together for a while now, just holding onto each other, slowly slipping back into sleep. But the sharp knock broke through the comfortable silence that had encased them all morning.

They acted quickly, both knowing exactly who was standing outside the door. Sam leapt up from the bed as quietly as possible, and looked around the room. Celaena gave him an exasperated look and crawled toward the edge of the bed, grabbed his shoulders, and shoved him down to the floor. Sam seemed to get the message. 

Not two seconds later, Chaol came striding into her room, furrowing his brows as to why she was kneeling on the edge of her bed. "Why...."

"I heard your knock and it startled me. That's all," She snapped. A quick glance down at the floor told her Sam had crawled under her bed. She slid off the mattress and picked up yesterday's gown, quickly throwing it over top of Sam's own clothes, which were sitting folded on an armchair next to her. 

Chaol hadn't seemed to notice, thank the gods.

"What are you doing here? We're not to run for another hour," She asked, breaking the awkward silence that had surrounded them. 

"I'm canceling our training today, but I wanted to see if you planned to attend today's service."

"Today's—what?"

"It's Samhuinn, Celaena," Chaol sighed. "Do you plan to attend temple?"

"It's Samhuinn today? Why has nobody mentioned?" She asked before briefly remembering her conversation with Sam the night prior. That little bastard. "Is there a feast tonight?"

"Of course, but you're not invited," he frowned at her.

"Of course," she began to walk towards him, forcing him to turn around and lead the way out if her room and into the sitting room. "And will you be summoning the dead to you this haunted night or lighting a bonfire with your companions?" 

They sat down across from each other. "I don't partake in such superstitious nonsense."

"Oh be careful, my cynical friend!" she warned, putting a hand in the air. "The gods and the dead are closest to the earth this day— they can hear every nasty comment you make!" 

He rolled his eyes. "It's a silly holiday to celebrate the coming of winter. The bonfires just produce ash to cover the fields."

"As an offering to the gods to keep them safe!"

"As a way to fertilize them."

Celaena crossed her arms, vaguely realizing she reeked of sweat. "So says you."

He snorted and leaned back in his chair, staring into her vivid blue eyes. The gold rim around her pupils shone so brightly in the early morning, it almost looked like pure electricity. "I never took you for a superstitious person. How does that fit into your career?"

She glared at him and said nothing in response. She turned her head to look out the window into the courtyard. Her hair fell over her shoulder and seemed to sway in a nonexistent breeze. His breath caught, but he quickly shook his head and swallowed. "You still haven't given me an answer."

"An answer to what?" she turned back to face him, cocking an eyebrow.

"Are you going to temple?"

"I'm allowed to go to temple, but not to the feast?" 

"Religious observances should not be denied to anyone."

"Oh of course. And the feast is...?"

"A show of debauchery." 

"Ah. I see," she stood and began to walk in the general direction of the bathing chamber. Chaol followed her.

"Well? If you are, we need to leave soon."

"No," she said simply, continuing to make her way across the room. 

"For someone so superstitious, you risk angering the gods by not attending. I imagine that an assassin would take more interest in the day of the dead."

She made a demented face as she paused at the threshold and turned around. "I worship in my own way. Perhaps I'll make a sacrifice or two of my own."

He ignored her not-so-subtle jab and said, "Mind yourself while I'm gone. And you have training with Brullo and the others in the afternoon like normal. You've got a Test tomorrow."

"Again? We just had one."

But he said nothing more. He just stared at her.

She made to turn into the bathroom and noticed him straighten behind her. She turned back to face him fully and smiled. "Are you going to join me?"

He stiffened when he finally seemed to realize where they were standing. He glared at her, and swiftly strode out of her chambers.

After waiting a few moments to listen intently to his footsteps fading down the hallway outside, she hurried back into her bedroom. Sam was waiting on the bed, dressed in his uniform once again. He seemed confused by her sudden angry grimace.

"What is it?"

She sighed out through her nose. "You buzzard. You knew it was Samhuinn today and you neglected to tell me?"

That's what she was mad about? He laughed out loud and made his way over to where she was standing. "I was going to remind you this morning, but you– well, I was going to ask you something actually."

"What?"

"Well I can't really ask it anymore. The Captain shut it down before I even got a chance."

Now she was even more intrigued. "What?" she pressed for an answer. 

"I was going to ask you if you would like to share a dance with me at tonights feast. A single dance would've been subtle enough, I think."

Her face fell back into a grimace. "I don't see why I'm not allowed to attend."

"You're Adarlan's Assassin, lovely," he murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead. His hands lightly gripped the sides of her face, tilting her head up so he could look her directly in the eyes. "I have no trouble at all seeing why you weren't invited."

She sighed into the kiss as his lips met hers. Carefully, she reached up with one hand to gently trace her fingertips along his jaw, bringing her other hand up to wrap around his neck and settle in his hair. They stayed wrapped up in each other for a few minutes before Sam pulled back and whispered, "I have to go. Work."

She huffed. "Or, you could stay here with me."

"As lovely as that sounds, I have a cover to keep. And you should definitely bathe," he chuckled.

She swatted his chest and tried to cover a smile. He saw it anyways, and his own smile grew. 

He quickly and efficiently helped her into the clothing she had worn the day prior, seeing as she had nothing else to wear for the morning, and began to make his way out of her chambers to get to work before he remembered...

"Celaena?" he asked tentatively. "Are you really that upset over not being able to attend the feast tonight?"

She sighed. "A little bit. I thought by now they would trust me a bit more, enough to go to a stupid dinner party."

He nodded. "I won't go. I'll stay with you tonight."

She smiled at the kind offer. "No," she shook her head. "You have to go. Go, and.... bring me something."

He nodded once and smiled. "I can do that."

She grabbed him before he turned and left, and pressed a quick kiss to his lips that he smiled into. When he had gone from her chambers, she sighed again and set out to find some company.

————

Grateful the service was finally over, Dorian Havilliard strode by himself through the castle grounds. Religion neither convinced nor moved him, and after hours of sitting in a pew, muttering prayer after prayer, he was in desperate need of some fresh air. And solitude.

He sighed through his clenched teeth, rubbing a spot on his temple, and headed through the garden. He passed a cluster of ladies, each of whom curtsied and giggled behind their fans. Dorian gave them a terse nod as he strode by. His mother had used the ceremony as a chance to point out all the eligible ladies to him. He'd spent the entire service trying not to scream at the top of his lungs.

Dorian turned around a hedge, almost crashing into a figure of blue-green silk. It was the color of a mountain lake—that gem-like shade that didn't quite have a name. Not to mention the fabrics of her shirt were quite wrinkled. His gaze rose to her face, and he smiled.

"Hello, Lady Lillian," he said, bowing, and then turned to her two companions. "Princess Nehemia. Captain Westfall." Dorian eyed the assassin's dress again. The folds of fabric—like the flowing waters of a river—were rather attractive. "You're looking festive." Celaena's brows lowered.

"The Lady Lillian's servants were attending the service when she dressed," said Chaol. "There was nothing else to wear." Of course, but corsets required assistance to get in and out of—and the dresses were a labyrinth of secret clasps and ties. She still would've needed help getting into this dress, however wrinkled it was.

"My apologies, my lord prince," Celaena said. Her eyes were bright and angry, and a blush rose to her cheek. "I'm truly sorry my clothes don't suit your taste."

"No, no," he said quickly, glancing at her feet. They were clad in red shoes—red like the winter berries beginning to pop out on the bushes. "You look very nice. Although.... Did you wear it yesterday as well?" She gave him an exasperated look. He turned to Nehemia. "Forgive me," he said in his best Eyllwe, which wasn't very impressive at all. "How are you?"

Her eyes shone with amusement at his shoddy Eyllwe, but she nodded in acknowledgment. "I am well, Your Highness," she answered in his language. Dorian's attention flicked to her two guards, who lurked in the shadows nearby-waiting, watching. Dorian's blood thrummed in his veins.

For weeks now, Duke Perrington had been pushing for a plan to bring more forces into Eyllwe—to crush the rebels so efficiently that they wouldn't dare challenge Adarlan's rule again. Just yesterday, the duke presented a plan: they would deploy more legions, and keep Nehemia here to discourage any retaliation from the rebels. Not particularly inclined to add hostage-taking to his repertoire of abilities, Dorian had spent hours arguing against it. But while some of the council members had also voiced their disapproval, the majority seemed think the duke's strategy to be a sound one. Still, Dorian had convinced them to back off about it until his father returned. That would give him time to win over some of the duke's supporters.

Now, standing before her, Dorian quickly looked away from the princess. If he were anyone but the Crown Prince, he would warn her. But if Nehemia left before she was supposed to, the duke would know who had told her, and inform his father. Things were bad enough between Dorian and the king; he didn't need to be branded as a rebel sympathizer.

"Are you going to the feast tonight?" Dorian asked the princess, forcing himself to look at her and keep his features neutral.

Nehemia looked immediately to Celaena. "Are you attending?" she asked in the common tongue.

Celaena gave her a smile that only meant trouble. "Unfortunately, I have other plans. Isn't that right, Your Highness?" She didn't bother to hide the undercurrent of annoyance.

Chaol coughed, suddenly very interested in the berries in the hedges. Dorian was on his own. "Don't blame me," Dorian said smoothly. "You accepted an invitation to that party in Rifthold weeks ago." Her eyes flickered, but Dorian wouldn't yield. He couldn't bring her to the feast, not with so many watching. There would be too many questions. Not to mention too many people. Keeping track of her would be difficult.

Nehemia frowned at Celaena. "So you're not going?"

"No, but I'm sure you'll have a lovely time," Celaena said, then switched into Eyllwe and said something else. Dorian's Eyllwe was just competent enough that he understood the gist of it to be: "His Highness certainly knows how to keep women entertained."

Nehemia's frown switched into a feral grin, and she replied something else to the assassin that Dorian couldn't catch. Celaena burst out laughing however, making his face warm. They were a formidable pair, gods help them all.

"Well, we're very important and very busy," Celaena said to him, still chuckling as she linked elbows with the princess. Perhaps allowing them to be friends was a horrible, dangerous idea. "So, we must be off. Good day, Your Highness." She curtsied, the deep emerald-blue fabric of her dress sparkling in the sun. She looked over her shoulder, giving Dorian a smirk before sticking her tongue out at him as she led the princess deeper into the garden. Gods above.

Dorian glared at Chaol. "Thanks for your help."

The captain clapped him on the shoulder. "You think that was bad? You should see them when they really get going." With that, he strode after the women.

Dorian wanted to yell, to pull out his hair. He'd enjoyed seeing Celaena the other night-enjoyed it immensely. But for the past few weeks, he'd gotten caught up in council meetings and holding court, and hadn't been able to visit her. Were it not for the feast, he'd go to her again. He hadn't meant to annoy her with talk about the dress; although, it did look as though she had worn it the previous day. And even though it was something he shouldn't be thinking about, how had she gotten dressed by herself this morning? The amount of times he had had to help court ladies redress before escorting them out of his rooms was.... well, a lot. Surely she couldn't do all of it by herself. And, he hadn't known she'd be that irritated about not being invited to the feast. His mind was buzzing with thoughts of her. But...

She had said she was taken with someone. And he had vowed to remain friends with her, and nothing more. But the thought of her with someone else...

Dorian scowled and walked off to the kennels.


	20. Chapter 20

Celaena smiled to herself, running her free hand down her dress. Dorian could think whatever he wanted; she didn't care. Besides, she didn't think it had been that wrinkled.

"No, no Your Highness," Chaol interrupted her thoughts with a sharp tone that made her watch him with an accusatory glare. "I'm a guard, not a soldier."

"There's no difference," the princess retorted, her accent thick and a bit unwieldy. Chaol bristled. Celaena could barely contain her glee. It wasn't often Chaol let people's words get to him, and she loved how squirmy he got whenever he tried to hold a conversation with Nehemia. 

Speaking of, she smiled as she thought about her friend. Over the weeks, she had managed to spend a lot of time with the princess; mostly brief walks or dinners filled with conversation about growing up in Eyllwe, what she thought of Rifthold, and most often, who in court annoyed her the most that day. Celaena enjoyed this topic a lot, because it was usually everyone in the courtroom that had annoyed her. 

Chaol's sharp tone once again drew her away from her thoughts. "I'm not trained to fight in battles," he said through gritted teeth.

"You kill on the orders of your king." Your king. Nehemia may not know the common tongue that well, but she knew the power and importance of those words. Yours. Not hers. And while she could sit and listen to Nehemia rant about the King of Adarlan for hours on end, other people were walking around the grounds. Anyone could listen. 

"It's pointless to argue with her Chaol," she interrupted before he could respond to the princess. "You aren't that good at it anyways."

He frowned at her and didn't respond; instead, he stopped walking and inspected a flowerbed they were standing next to. 

"I'm just saying," she offered a sly smile and nudged his side with her elbow. "Nehemia has a point. Perhaps you shouldn't have given Terrin your title. Could you reclaim it? It would certainly clear up a lot of confusion regarding your position here in Rifthold, Captain."

"How'd you remember my brother's name?"

She shrugged, not quite understanding the gleam in his eyes. "You told me. Why wouldn't I remember?"

Nehemia snaked her arm through Celaena's and began to pull her along the path. Chaol followed close behind, Nehemia's own guards following a few paces behind the Captain.

"Are you sure you can't attend the feast tonight?" Nehemia asked her in Eyllwe, giving her an overly saddened pout face. 

"Yes, unfortunately," she responded before switching to the common tongue to sigh exasperatedly and say pointedly, "I suppose you'll enjoy it well enough—without me there, that is."

Chaol sighed and muttered, "Are you really that upset about it?"

Celaena just chuckled and turned to stick her tongue out at him, making Nehemia chuckle as well, understanding enough of what had been said to piece together what she was mocking him about. 

Nehemia gasped suddenly and pulled the assassin to a halt. "You'll teach me!" She said in Eyllwe. "Teach me to better understand your language—teach me how to read and write it better than I do now. So I don't have to suffer through my lessons with those horribly boring old men they call tutors."

"I—" she began in the common tongue. While it would be immensely fun to have the princess fluent in both languages, convincing Chaol to let them spend time together was a task all its own. He would most definitely not agree to lessons together where they couldn't be monitored by the public or the guards like they could when they were outside. "I don't know how to properly teach you the language," She replied in Eyllwe.

"Nonsense," Nehemia clicked her tongue. "You'll teach me. After your training with that one," she said, gesturing to Chaol.

Celaena swallowed and contemplated. That was her time with Sam. It was the only time they could be together, and she wasn't ready to give it up, regardless of how much she loved her friend. She sighed and turned to Chaol, who had been eyeing them with a look of distrust. "She wishes for me to tutor her every day before supper."

"That is not possible." 

Celaena translated for Nehemia whose face switched to an unpleasant grimace. "Why not?" she asked in Eyllwe. "She is smarter than everybody in the castle. She can teach me better than those boring men can."

Chaol, thankfully, caught the general gist of it. "I don't think—"

Nehemia gave him a withering glare and interrupted in the common tongue. "Am I not the Princess of Eyllwe?" 

She played that card. Celaena let a small smirk grow on her face as she looked with mock interest to Chaol for a response. 

"Your Highness," Chaol began, but Celaena's eyes caught on something they were approaching: the black, menacing clock tower that sat in the middle of the spacious castle grounds. What caught her eye however, was the massive, crouched figure in front of it. She raised a hand to silence Chaol, who turned to follow her gaze. 

His head was lowered, focusing on something in the ground in front of him. As the three of them approached, Nehemia's guards following closely, Cain's head shot up. He smirked widely at Celaena and stood. His hands were covered in dirt, but before Celaena could better observe him, or his strange behavior, he nodded to Chaol and stalked away behind the tower.

"Nasty brute," Celaena breathed, still staring in the direction in which he'd disappeared.

"Who is he?" Nehemia asked in Eyllwe.

"A soldier in the king's army," Celaena said, "though he now serves as Duke Perrington's Champion in the tournament."

Nehemia looked after Cain, and her dark eyes narrowed. "Something about him makes me want to beat in his face."

Celaena laughed. "I'm glad I'm not the only one."

Chaol said nothing as he began walking again. She and Nehemia took up behind him, and as they crossed the small patio in which the clock tower stood, Celaena looked at the spot where Cain had just been kneeling. He'd dug out the dirt packed into the hollowed lines of a strange mark carved in the flagstone, making the mark clearer. 

"What do you think this is?" she asked the princess, pointing at the mark etched into the tile. And why had Cain been cleaning it?

"A Wyrdmark," the princess replied, giving it a name in Celaena's own language.

Celaena's brows rose. It was just a triangle inside of a circle. "Can you read these marks?" she asked. Wyrdmarks. Strange.

"No," Nehemia said quickly. "They're a part of an ancient religion that died long ago."

"What religion?" Celaena asked. "Look, there's another." She pointed at another mark a few feet away. It was a vertical line with an inverted peak stretching upward from its middle, and a small circle around the base of the line.

"You should leave it alone," Nehemia said sharply, and Celaena blinked. "Such things were forgotten for a reason."

"What are you talking about?" asked Chaol, sensing the sharp tone. She explained the gist of conversation they had just held, and he furrowed his brows but said nothing.

They continued on, and Celaena saw another mark. It was a stranger shape: a small diamond with two inverted points protruding from either side. The top and bottom peaks of the diamond were elongated into a straight line, and it seemed to be symmetrically perfect. Had the king had them carved when he built the clock tower, or did they pre-date it?

Nehemia was staring at her forehead. A strange look had come over he face, prompting Celaena to ask, "Is there dirt on my face?"

"No," Nehemiah said a bit distantly, her brows knotting as she studied Celaena's brow. The princess suddenly stared into Celaena's eyes with a ferocity that made the assassin recoil slightly. "You know nothing about the Wyrdmarks?"

The clock tower chimed, a horrible, ugly sound. "No," Celaena said. "I don't know any thing about them."

"You're hiding something," the princess said softly, though it was not accusatory. "You are much more than you seem, Lillian."

"I—well....." she stuttered, not quite knowing how to respond. She opted for grinning broadly, hoping Nehemia would stop looking so strange and stop staring at her brow. "Can you teach me how to speak Eyllwe properly?"

"If you can teach me more of your ridiculous language," said the princess, though some caution still lingered in her eyes. What had Nehemia seen that caused her to act that way? "It's a deal," Celaena said with a weak smile. "Just don't tell him. Captain Westfall leaves me alone in the midafternoon. The hour before supper is perfect." She couldn't bring herself to turn down her friend. Sam could come after supper time, of course. 

"Then I shall come tomorrow at five," Nehemia said. The princess smiled and began to walk once more, a spark appearing in her black eyes. Celaena could only follow after her.


	21. Chapter 21

Celaena flopped backwards into her bed and sighed. The feast had started an hour ago, and she was bored out of her mind. She had been forbidden from leaving her chambers for the rest of the night, so she had nothing to do except sit and wallow in self-pity.

Well, that was what Chaol thought anyways.

All she had been waiting for, was the near-silent sound of footsteps retreating from outside her chambers. Her guards had finally left. With a small smile, she sat up and turned to face the large tapestry covering her bedroom wall. Everyone but her got to have fun at the feast tonight, so why shouldn't she have some fun of her own? 

Picking up the supplies she had already gathered, she made quick work of folding up the tapestry behind the wooden chest and heaving open the stone door. Letting the phantom breeze weave around her, she set off into the darkness once more. 

After taking two flights of stairs into the gloom, she paused between a panel of portals. Last time, she had ignored all the other pathways and simply gone straight. 

It was almost as if the breeze were trying to shove her into the far right passage. It nearly made her arch her back as it blew into her, causing her candle to flicker. The hair on her arms rose as she watched the flame of her candle bend towards the passageway, like it was now working with the wind which was still pushing her gently towards it. Whispers seemed to lay beneath that breeze, speaking to her in foreign, forgotten languages. She shuddered and turned to face the far left portal instead. Following whispers and strange breezes could only mean trouble on Samhuinn.

Despite the breeze, the passage was warm. Eventually, she reached a set of stairs and began to climb. Up, and up, and up she went, her heavy breathing and shuffling feet being the only sound. There were no twisting passageways or dark arches as she reached the top, only one straight hallway that seemed to continue on forever. She followed it, ignoring her tired feet and the small voice in the back of her mind that kept whispering to return to her room. 

After some time, she was surprised to hear music. 

Actually, it was the sound of great revelry, and there was a golden beam of light casting on the floor ahead. It streamed in from what looked like a small window or door. The ceiling sloped down all of a sudden; so low that she had to get on her hands and knees to crawl towards the light. It wasn't a window or a door, but rather a small bronze grate. 

Celaena blinked as she looked, from high above, at the feast in the Great Hall. 

Were these tunnels for spying? She frowned and studied the scene. There was Chaol, sitting beside some old man, talking and—

Laughing?

She set down her candle and readjusted, studying the rest of the Hall. There were a few other grates, but she could see no other sets of peering eyes beyond their ornate metalwork. She shifted her gaze to the dancers, noticing with a slight surprise that a few of the Champions were among them. She found Nox in the crowd, and smiled at his more elegant dancing style. She pitied the woman he was dancing with, however, as she noticed his foot narrowly miss her toes. But.... Wait—

The other Champions were allowed to attend, and she wasn't? Against her better judgement, she gripped the grate, pressing her face against it to get a better look. Sure enough, there were more Champions seated at the tables—even the pimply-faced Pelor sat near Chaol! A half-rate boy assassin! She bared her teeth. How dare she be denied an invitation to the feast? The tightness in her chest abated only slightly when she couldn't find Cain's face among the revelers. At least they kept him locked up in a cage, too. 

She spotted the Crown Prince, dancing and laughing with some blond idiot. She wanted to hate him for refusing to invite her; she was his Champion, after all! But... she had difficulty not staring at him. She had no desires for him, but she couldn't help just looking at him, to see that unusual grace, and the kindness in his eyes that had made her tell him about Sam. Why did she care so much what he thought of her? Besides, the first time she had ever met him, he had—

Her thoughts vanished as her eyes focused on a flash of familiar brown hair moving across the room. As Sam weaved his way through the crowd of people, she groaned. Hadn't he promised to bring her something from the feast? If he caught her in here again, he likely wouldn't be happy about it. 

Groaning again at the thought of all the stairs she would have to climb, she pushed herself up on the wall that dead ended behind her and picked up her candle and other supplies. She took the steps by two going down, and when she reached the open chamber of passageways, the phantom breeze pushed her towards that same passage on the far side of the room. She ignored it, and hurried up the stairs towards her room. She was sweating when she reached her chambers, but she quickly, with some effort, pulled down the heavy tapestry and shoved her supplies into a drawer. 

A distant knock sounded, and she hurried toward the main door. She paused right as she reached for the handle, listening for whether there was any threat on the other side.

"Your guards are at the feast, I gather," Sam's voice said nonchalantly. "Rather stupid that your chambers are unguarded, if you ask me."

She rolled her eyes and opened the door. "You mean to tell me," she began, pulling him inside. "that I could've left at my leisure?" She already knew this of course, but exploring her tunnels was loads more exciting than leaving to roam the halls of the stone castle.

He chuckled and shut the door, kissing her gently as soon as it clicked in place. "Mhmm," he nodded, barely pulling away from their kiss to reply.

She pulled away instead and glared, turning to march into her bedroom. He followed, shutting that door behind them as well. He was about to open his mouth to say something when she said, "Help me out of this dress so I can put on something more comfortable."

He walked towards her, and wasted no time in untying and unclasping all of the hidden laces and buttons and strings that he himself had done up the very same morning. 

The moment the dress fell to the floor, she stepped out of it, once again leaving it in a puddle, and opened a drawer to pull out a blue nightgown. She turned to face Sam, and motioned with her finger for him to turn around. Once he had done so, she undressed completely and pulled the nightgown over her head. 

Sam stayed put, even though he heard her footsteps moving toward him. She slid her arms around his waist and smiled into his back. Sam took a deep breath and slowly turned so her arms would stay wrapped around him. He raised his hands to gently tug her face out of where it was buried in his chest, trailing a steady finger across her lips as they gazed at each other. Her eyes burned into his, the gold around the center alighting fire across his skin. She craned her neck further to rest her chin against his chest while maintaining eye contact. They unconsciously began to sway together, moving to music that neither one of them could hear, but both knew was there. With their gazes fixated on each other, they swayed. 

They swayed and danced and held each other, each marveling at the other as they moved. It seemed that neither of them would soon get over having the other back in their arms. 

Somehow, they ended up curled together beneath the sheets. The moonlight broke through the curtains, casting white light on the end of the bed as they lay there. Celaena's body became sluggish and weighted, and she knew falling asleep would be an easy task.

And it was for both of them, until she was pulled from sleep as she heard soft footsteps right outside her bedroom door. She bolted upright, waking Sam up, and began shoving him off the bed towards the floor. 

But it was too late. The door eased open.

————

After a few hours of enjoying himself at the feast, Dorian entered Celaena's rooms, not quite sure exactly what he was doing. It was two in the morning, and his head was spinning slightly from the wine, and he was fairly certain that if he sat down, he'd fall asleep.

There was no light shining from under her bedroom door, so, against his better judgement, he eased it open to peer inside. He stumbled and blinked rapidly, staring in shock at two figures sitting upright in her bed. Celaena seemed to be in the midst of shoving the man off of the bed. And the man seemed to be in the midst of attempting to wake himself up. As the two men made eye contact, they both straightened up; Dorian sobering from the wine (only slightly), and the man on the bed sobering from tiredness. 

For a solid 30 seconds, no one moved. 

Then Celaena sighed and buried her head in her hands. 

Dorian, now somewhat sobered up, blinked. A million things crossed his mind all at once, but only very dimly in the very back of his thoughts did the dangerousness of the situation come up. All he could think to say was, "...What?"

Celaena lifted her head, gazing upon him with tired eyes. "Shut the door, and sit."

And so he did.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so so much for reading!


End file.
